


Collision Part I - First Contact

by starkind



Series: The Collision Tetralogy [1]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), DC Cinematic Universe, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Cliche, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Deviates From Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Fast Cars, First Kiss, First Time, Gen, Gentleman Bruce Wayne, Language, Love Triangles, Luxury, Multi, Protective Bruce Wayne, Rare Pairings, Rivalry, Slow Build, Snarky Tony Stark, Undecided Relationship(s), Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 13:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 49,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3938743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkind/pseuds/starkind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU crossover fic, set after the events of both IM2 and BB (with consideration of pre- and post-Avengers 2012):</p><p>What if Pepper Potts resigned from being CEO?<br/>What if Tony Stark backpedaled after the events in IM2?<br/>What if another billionaire industrialist turned up at the doorstep?<br/>Would Pepper still know where to draw the line at the end of the day?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thought I'd share my very first attempt at writing in this fandom, from way back in 2012. 
> 
> Once more based on a dream that just would not go away until I put it to paper, this story tries to interlink some of the existing canon from both cinematic universes (Marvel & DC), but with the occasional twist here and there. Be warned, this is going to be long, full of clichés, and most definitely completely unbeta'd.

Malibu, September 2009

Pepper Potts sighed and stretched out her long limbs underneath the huge wooden coffee table. She yearned to take off her trademark black Louboutins and give her aching feet a decent massage. Being the professional assistant she was, however, Pepper did not, even though it looked like it was going to be another long night and she could feel a headache creeping up.

Sighing again to no one in particular from her usual spot on the living room couch, she watched her old-and-new-boss fiddle with his cufflinks as he strolled past her towards the gallery. “Is this really necessary Tony? It’s the third time in a row this week and I don’t think…” “Yep, sure is.” His voice cut in from where he was busy rummaging through the cupboard for a glass.

“Don’t be a spoilsport, Pep – the VS aftershow party is, in fact, legendary. And it wouldn’t really be nice if I didn’t show up after they donned that lovely Ironette-Lingerie in their latest campaign, now would it?”

Much to Pepper’s dismay, he poured himself a generous drink from the well-stocked house bar, but if he saw her frown, Tony did not mention it. Instead, he downed his Scotch in one gulp, grinned at her and made his way over to the front door, swagger in his stride. As to be expected, the Californian billionaire looked right out of a page from the GQ, playboy charm oozing out of every pore.

“Don’t stay up for me, honey,” he drawled sexily as he turned to give her one last look over his shoulder. “I’ll try to be back early, I promise.” The door slammed shut and Pepper heard him revving the engine of his precious Audi R8 Spyder. Tony Stark; genius, billionaire, playboy and occasional Iron Man then sped off into the night, to schmooze as many models as he could.

She blamed his unabated love for parties and socializing on the Iron Man superhero popularity, and the fact that his health, fortunately, was back to normal after the critical Palladium poisoning which almost got the best of him a couple of months ago.

Even though he did not get back to his pre-Afghanistan ways of sleeping with every short skirt that batted long eyelashes at him, Tony wanted to show the world and himself that he was very much alive and kicking. When all the hassle that surrounded Ivan Vanko, the destruction of Stark Expo and Tony’s near-death experience had finally started to ebb off after nearly four months, Pepper Potts found herself running on empty.

“Damn you, Stark.”

The personal assistant mumbled as she pinched the bridge of her nose and swallowed the bitter feelings that rose in her throat. After her brief stint as CEO of Stark Industries and the wrap up of the Expo insurance fiasco, she had been all too ready to give the big burden back to Tony, and he had accepted it nearly without any complaint. Still, the kiss they shared on the rooftop stood out like a sore thumb to her ever since.

True, she had feelings for Tony -even more so since he had quite literally turned his life around- but when she witnessed him stumbling back into some of his old habits, they both had unconsciously stepped away from what could have been the tender beginnings of a serious relationship. She consoled herself thinking that ‘Tony Stark’ and ‘relationship’ just did not go together in the same sentence, whether he admitted it or not.

Monogamy, love, commitment and anything that came with it always made him squeamish. Therefore, and in order to save face, Pepper acted out on the kiss like it was a spontaneous burst of emotion after a long series of trials and tribulations, and found Tony gladly accepting her choice. In a way, she felt as if she had done him a favor, and the fact that he never made the effort to correct her on that was what really hurt.

Knowing that she survived his antics before and would most certainly not start to falter now, Pepper glumly started to collect her strewn belongings. She finished up the paperwork for Tony to sign the next morning, left his agenda in its usual place on the kitchen counter and politely conversed with Jarvis for a while before wishing the AI a good night.

As she drove down the freeway, Pepper fervently wished for no call later that night which would require her to do the “dry cleaning” in the morning.

***

“Yes, Mr. Meyers. Erm, no. He… no, if you listened to me earlier, I said that Mister Stark...”

The voice on the other end erupted in another talking fit and Pepper paced around her office to ward off her underlying annoyance. Her mouth was reduced to a grim line while she listened to the angry R&D division manager carrying out his resentment about Tony’s lack of productivity within their department lately. If she was honest with herself, Pepper fully understood Mister Meyer’s dismay.

She had seen the reports and they weren’t promising.

Stark Industries’ branch for green technology and implantology still staggered after being newly founded two months ago; missing the input of its prodigy CEO and his technological knowledge to seal the gaping hole that was the closure of weapon’s manufacturing. Hundreds of employees were still on hold, begging for new work whilst hoping not to be unemployed by the end of each month.

HR was breathing down Tony’s neck almost daily and demanded solutions, while their boss was more busy flying around in his iron suit to right his wrongs. No one had seen him around the office ever since Tony had hauled his father’s large Expo replica model into his R8. Senior HR managers had taken to breathe down Pepper’s neck and forced her to conjure up more and more excuses as to why the man in question was not available.

If Tony was not out partying, he spent his days and mostly his nights down in his workshop to tinker with new features for his suits. Mark’s VII development was strictly bound to Tony’s hands and private servers, and he very much intended to keep it that way. “Okay. Okay, Mister Meyers. I understand and I will pass your request on to Mister Stark.” More talking from the other end erupted but Pepper inhaled and carried on.  
  
“And no, the appointment this week needs to be rescheduled. I’m sorry Mister Meyers, that’s all I can give you, we’ll stay in touch. Thank you.”

With a flick of her wrist, she yanked the Bluetooth headset off and braced herself against the desk. If things did not change, somebody’s head would end up on a stick very soon. And Pepper certainly had no intention of losing hers. A knock on her door then interrupted her macabre train of thoughts. Dwight Johnson, her long-time office manager, poked his head in and politely waited until her composure was back in place.

She forced a less murderous look on her even face and gave him one of her best professional looks. Years of wrangling her wayward boss without anyone noticing had perfected the fine art of instant adaptation. She was in fact even a little proud of her title in certain circles: Pepper Potts - goddess of patience and fire.

“Yes, Dwight?”

“Miss Potts, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have a call from Wayne Enterprises on the other line. They wish to speak with Mister Stark. It’s…” She grimaced slightly as she thought about the fact that she herself very much wanted to speak with Mister Stark as well. It probably would not be as

She grimaced slightly as she thought about the fact that she herself very much wanted to speak with Mister Stark as well. It probably would not be as friendly, though. Pepper smiled apologetically. Her assistant had to absorb many unpleasant calls and requests, ever since Tony’s hero outing. She made sure he got well-compensated.

“Please tell them that Mister Stark is currently very busy and not available for time being. They may send us an email with all necessary information, and we’ll get in touch ASAP.”

Dwight Johnson was about to reply, but Pepper shook her head. He nodded and pulled the door shut with a soft click. She sat back in front of her notebook and continued typing her report, albeit hitting the keys with more force than necessary. Her anger fueled her, and she at least was able to tie up several loose ends on various items of her to do list, which gave her a momentary rush of accomplishment.

When lunchtime rolled around, she told Dwight to take the rest of the day as paid time off and left for her favorite coffee shop downtown.

Half an hour later, she balanced two skim grande caffè lattes plus a bag of cream cheese bagels in her hands as she entered Stark Mansion. Pepper glared at the untouched agenda from two nights ago and took the familiar steps down to the workshop. Without thinking, she typed in her three-digit code and waited until the door opened with a soft, hydraulic hiss.

At her entry, Tony pushed his goggles up and gave her one of his brightest smiles. He turned off the welding torch and made his way over to where she stood. He looked completely different than two nights ago: Unshaven, with a sweaty wifebeater covered in burn marks and axle grease and his hair sticking out wildly in all directions.

“Heyyy, food. Fantastic, I’m starved. Ugh, I just hope this isn’t the icky stuff from the deli like last week? Cause that one didn't sit well with my …”

With more venom than intended, Pepper all but slammed the bag of bagels into his chest. It caused Tony to involuntarily take a step backward as his assistant sidestepped him. She placed the coffee cups onto the workbench with more force than necessary, sloshing droplets of milk froth over the rims. With disdain, Pepper shook her hand clean.

“Franco’s Deli. Eat it or not, I don’t care. I need to talk to you Tony, seriously. There’s lots of stuff going on at SI and _people need you_.” She exhaled loudly and looked at her boss, who meanwhile had fished something he liked out of the bagel bag before he threw the rest onto the table.

“Yup, that’s the spirit, Pep - people need me. They need Iron Man and that’s what I’m giving them. I think you’re managing the razzle-dazzle just fine, you’re better with that anyhow.” He took a big bite out of his bagel, threw himself in his swivel chair and rolled over towards the mainframe before he continued to talk around a mouthful of bagel dough.

“By the way, wanna see the latest addition to Mark VII? I figured it would need more protection in the upper back systems… so J, how’s the new exoskeleton skin holding up?” Before the AI had a chance to answer his creator, Pepper’s piercing voice cut him off.

“Jarvis, mute!”

With incredulous big brown eyes, Tony looked up at his fuming assistant who had overridden his command. Before he could utter any protest, Pepper jabbed her index finger at him.

"This isn’t gonna work, Tony! Not everything is Iron Man - despite what you may think or believe. I am not in charge of this company anymore, _you_ are. Your R&D department is screwed, people are about to be fired or about to quit as there’s no one to tell them what to do, which direction to follow! HR is having my neck about this when they should be having yours, and on top of that I have a shitload of call-backs that inquire about 'Mister Stark this, and Mister Stark that'… so tell me, Mister _Iron Man_ – what the hell are you going to do?”

Silence followed Pepper’s outburst; she rarely, if ever, cursed in front of him. Her ragged breathing echoed between them. Miffed, Tony threw the remains of his bagel into the bag and stood up. It caused his chair to roll back into the workshop and bounce off a metal container where it came to a noisy halt. He was about to open his mouth to give a snappy retort but took a closer look at his confidante of many years.

He saw the tenseness of her shoulders, the red blotches on her cheeks, and her struggle to keep composure at all costs. Even though Tony Stark was indifferent to most people’s emotions, he was most certainly no fiend, and Pepper Potts had always been on his side for as long as he could remember. With his initial anger mostly gone, he opted for benevolence.

“I… okay, look, I realize the last few weeks - okay, okay, months - must’ve been pretty tough on you…” When the answer was a small harrumph, Tony smirked and inched closer. He spread his arms and pulled her into an awkward hug. “…so yeah, I’ll deal with R&D and you can cross it off your list. Isn’t that something? I’ll do that for you, Pepper, just watch me, okay? Don’t be mad anymore, hey. We good now?”

They stood frozen into an embrace for several seconds, without any words, and it took all of Pepper Potts’ willpower to not just cave into her basic instincts. A huge part of her wanted to lean into Tony, put her arms around him and her head on his shoulder. She wanted to inhale his scent and feel his heartbeat next to hers. Fighting off her undisclosed desires, she slipped out of his arms and broke the spell of the moment.

“Okay, thanks. Oh, and there are some more things you need to sign. And I need to brief you on the board meeting next month. They asked you to take a look at the agenda by the end of this week. It’s upstairs…” Pepper’s ramblings were cut off by her boss’ index finger on her lips. Large brown eyes swam into her vision, as they were still basically standing toe to toe.

”…shh, now - don’t push your luck, Potts. One outta three is all you’re gonna get. Rather have my wardrobe ready for tonight - I’m going out for dinner. Something fancy, we’re talking Universal Pictures people, you know? Oh, and great coffee, Pep, you're a doll.” With these words, Tony winked before he took a huge gulp. She watched him push the goggles back over his eyes and ignite the welding torch again. 

Left to shield her eyes from the bright flame, Pepper was not sure whether she had just won a battle or lost the war. She turned around and left the workshop without looking back. The personal assistant had a vague feeling Tony would have forgotten what they just spoke about, the second the hydraulic doors slammed shut behind her and Jarvis started up his favorite AC/DC playlist.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Los Angeles, November 2009

  
Five weeks later, the R&D department was still waiting for Tony’s callback, the email account of Pepper Potts had reached an all-time high, and the board meeting deadline came and passed by.  
  
The meeting itself went fairly well, Pepper reconsidered, with only a slight uproar as Anthony Edward Stark showed up for the video conference twenty minutes late; dressed in an expensive gray three-piece suit and most of his face hidden behind huge dark designer shades. The fact that he left them on to conceal Iron Man’s latest encounter with Afghan terrorists five hours earlier was something Pepper had wisely kept silent about.

She spent the meeting discreetly crouching underneath the conference table and tried to keep a huge ice pack on his bruised thigh where an FIM-92 Stinger had left its ginormous mark. Indefinitely glad the vidcon was filmed from waist-up and trying to ignore the smirk on Tony’s face during the whole ordeal, Pepper seethed along.

The result after two and a half hours of him quarreling with the board was her feet that had fallen asleep in her awkward sitting position and a large water stain on Tony’s pants that he acknowledged with a raised eyebrow and a shake of the head.

Still, life went on and Pepper Potts, being the good assistant she was, learned to cope.  
  
Learned how to stitch up her boss when he came home a bloody mess in his shredded suit. Learned new ways of tricking Tony into doing what she wanted him to do, and learned to accept the things she could not change with him. To balance out her high level of stress and to stay sane, she had gotten back on track with her running and workout regime every morning and religiously took lunch and coffee breaks.  
  
She also continued to pursue her quest for the perfect art collection at Stark Mansion after it had taken her over three months to get back most of the pieces Tony had so recklessly donated to the Boy Scouts. Pepper made a mental note to never again tell anybody, least of all not him, the code for the storage location.

During that whole process of reevaluation, she became rather fond of spending her rare days off work browsing through art galleries and museums all around Los Angeles. She looked at various exhibits, exchanged information with gallery owners, and sometimes bought small pieces for herself.

One sunny Saturday afternoon she stood lost in thought in front of a darkly colored relief painting, unsure of whether she liked it or not. The sound of someone clearing his throat then woke her from her reverie. From where she stood and blocked the stairway, Pepper blinked twice, turned around to apologize and was met with a pair of astute, hazel eyes that belonged to a tall, well-groomed man in his early thirties.

“This has to be the most rapt attention this piece received since being displayed here.”

On second glance, she could see he was wearing an expensive tailored suit similar to those Tony wore, if a tad bit more conservative. His face looked vaguely familiar, but she could not pinpoint where to place him; maybe she had run into him on another of her gallery shopping sprees. Pepper got so caught up in whatever piece had captured her attention that she sometimes almost missed closing times.

Her eyes wandered back to the huge canvas and she cocked her head a little to give it a final inspection. “Well, it’s quite different from all the other exhibits here… kind of... dark and menacing. It doesn’t really fit in with the rest of the gallery’s works, wouldn’t you agree?” She gave the stranger a polite smile and straightened her back.  
  
A little off-balance without her trademark four-inch heels she had switched in favor of a comfy pair of loafers, Pepper Potts felt unusually small next to the man who slightly towered over her with at least 6’1. He gave the painting another scrutinizing look before turning his attention back to her. His mouth curved into a small smile.

“Maybe at first sight. Darkness doesn’t always equal menace; it also can be associated with calmness and tranquility. Think Allan McCollum’s 'Shapes Project', for example.” Pepper’s eyebrows rose in appreciation. She overlooked his attempt at flirtation after realizing he did seem quite educated on the topic of modern art.  
  
“Most people would name Rauschenberg or Rothko when speaking about paintings from a black period, but with a McCollum reference, you definitely don’t seem like most people." The man, now equally impressed, gave a short laugh and extended his hand. “I’ll take that as a compliment then. Bruce Wayne by the way, nice to meet you.” Pepper managed to keep her face neutral.  
  
Of course she had heard of him. Who hadn’t?

Even if his popularity did not level that of Tony Stark, Bruce Wayne was a force to be reckoned with - in private and in business. She knew, albeit vaguely, about Wayne’s terrible childhood where he was forced to witness the murder of his parents. Knew he lived secluded within the premises of Wayne Manor outside of his hometown Gotham City, and that he had been flying under anybody’s radar for the past couple of years.

Rumor had it Wayne spent them living in the rural regions of East Asia, becoming involved with martial arts and the like, but Pepper did not read enough gossip magazines to know if that was even remotely true. What she did know more about was how Bruce Wayne had just recently turned Wayne Enterprises into a huge conglomerate that had reached a new annual income average of over $30 billion by the middle of the 21st century.

Forbes Magazine’s latest issue had devoted their editorial to the young man, who was acting as chairman with a fifty-one percent majority ownership control of the common stock. Forbes had named the last heir to the Wayne dynasty a keen modernizer who continued to grow the business in the financial sector and in high-end technologies; a man in charge of his rising empire.

The fact that someone several years younger than Tony had managed to revamp his family’s legacy with great success had impressed Pepper Potts, even though she would not admit it out loud. Pushing all those thoughts to the very back of her head, she smiled warmly at him, took the proffered hand and decided to play with relatively open cards as well.

“Virginia Potts, the pleasure’s mine. You’re the third person I’ve met who shows some love for the Shapes Project. Critics claim that ‘Artistry is compromised if software is involved’.” Bruce Wayne did not give any outward reaction to her name when he released her hand to shove his back into the pocket of his Armani suit. He then leaned forward, almost conspiratorial.

“If you allow me to quote your source further, critics also claim that: ‘Regardless of how and where he produced each variant, it's clear that the Shapes Project has defined parameters and a prognosis for growth: It may be dull, repetitive, or even inversely proportionate to what you think of as original, but to many designers, it's also oddly reassuring’.”

Pepper did not even try to hide the flabbergasted look that crossed her features. Before she had stumbled across the recent Forbes article, she remembered reading something about Wayne being a simpleton, rich and spoiled, and knew once more why she did not waste her money on tacky gossip rags. “Okay Mister Wayne, touché. Who am I to argue with someone who can quote Jessica Helfand’s 2007 review more thoroughly than me?”

Even though his intelligent eyes gleamed in mischief, the little shrug he gave almost bordered on bashfulness. “Maybe I can make it up to you, Miss Potts – dare I say with a drink at some place over there?” Bruce Wayne pointed outside where a couple of little cafés and bars catered to the artistic crowd of Los Angeles. Pepper's mind started racing; she really did not have plans for the rest of the afternoon.  
  
Still, the nagging doubt in the back of her head remained, if it was wise to go for a drink with a man who rivaled Tony in so many ways. If the young billionaire was as smart as he seemed, it would not take long for him to find out who Pepper really was. She was unsure if he already knew and simply waited her out, so declining would seem poor-spirited and ruin any possible future collaboration plans.  
  
Trying to justify her decision that she was solely doing it for the sake of Stark Industries, Pepper eventually smiled and nodded, readjusting her purse over her shoulder in the process. “I think I should give you the chance to, Mister Wayne. I demand a huge cup of caffè latte for reparation.” He indicated a bow. “I am glad I'm allowed to make amends. If coffee is going to get me back in your good graces let’s not wait any longer. Shall we?”

Like a true gentleman, Bruce Wayne yielded to her, and Pepper allowed him to guide her over to a cute little café by the seaside. When her wish got fulfilled and they were sitting outside, sipping on their respective beverages, Pepper Potts thought about how Bruce Wayne compared to Tony Stark. While the parallels were eerily there, the two men could not have been more different character-wise.

Being around Tony Stark usually felt like being in a hurricane - or at a huge birthday party for a five-year-old, involving kittens and too many sweets. The subliminal air that surrounded Bruce Wayne was one of gloom and severity instead; belonging to a person who had seen too much too soon. Pepper solemnly stirred the milky foam into her coffee and leaned back in the seat before she took another sip.

“So tell me Mister Wayne, what brought you all the way over from Gotham City to the artistic neighborhood of LA?”

He crossed his arms on the table and gazed out to where the shoreline spread along the scenery. “Business of course; there’s basically nothing else these days. And since Gotham’s art scene sadly is sparsely populated, I got to find ways to indulge in my guilty pleasure.” Even if he did smile occasionally, it never really reached his eyes, Pepper noticed as they intently looked at her.  
  
“I’m curious. You mentioned I’m the third person you knew who liked McCollum’s Shape Project – who’s the other poor devil apart from you and me?” She fought hard to keep a straight face as she pondered her answer. Thoughts of how and when she acquired the Jackson Pollock for Tony flooded her mind. It involuntarily brought her back to the day before Tony’s capture, and the following three months of hell they lived through.

“That… would be my boss. He’s not that much into art, but gets a kick out of buying extremely eccentric or extremely valuable pieces. I took it upon me to take care of his collection.” Suppressing a small shiver Pepper placed her mug back on the table, pulled her cardigan a little tighter around her shoulders and stared out onto the ocean as well.  
  
Bruce Wayne did not seem to notice as he was busy swirling the remains of his espresso before he finished it in one gulp. He pressed his lips together briefly and gave a slight tilt of the head. “Your boss seems like an unconventional guy. Quite a shame that he does not really seem to appreciate your ambition and knowledge.”  
  
Pepper shook her head a little and waved him off as more pictures of Tony popped up before her inner eye, against her will. Him working knee deep in grease on his Hot Rod in his workshop. Him swaggering into a club with a beautiful woman on each arm. She pushed the latter from her mind and bit her lip; it stung and she did not want to dwell on why that was.

“No, it’s not that he’s not grateful. It’s more like his mind is occupied… with other things most of the time - I'm sure you can relate.”

When Bruce Wayne nodded, she forced her toes to uncurl within her loafers and reached out for her mug once more. He leaned back and, with a flick of the thumb, unbuttoned his jacket. The billionaire then hooked an arm over the rest, and Pepper’s quick and astute glance neither failed to notice the expensive designer label stitched into the lining, nor the broadness of the chest that had been hidden underneath.  
  
She unobtrusively focused back on his face as he spoke on. “I see. Let’s not talk about your boss on your day off anymore. I don’t know about you, but it’s been too long since I’ve had a nice afternoon off. Plus,” Wayne squinted up into the sun; looking far younger and far less serious than mere moments ago. "The weather here’s definitely nicer than in Gotham around this time of the year. Or _any_ time of the year, really.”

Pepper had to laugh, and they spend almost an hour pleasantly talking about anything from art to sports, from contemporary opera to favorite vacation destinations. Conversation flowed easily; not because Pepper Potts had always prided herself on her knack for making fabulous small talk, but because sincere interest had spawned between them.

All too soon, Bruce Wayne had to take his leave and made his way over to where a large black limousine had arrived; waiting for him with its engine running. Before he got in, the billionaire turned around to face her one more time. His fingers drummed against the roof and he narrowed his eyes. “Is there a chance I will be seeing you again sometime, Miss Potts?”  
  
Pepper was glad she already wore her sunglasses to feign a cool façade.  
She cocked her head and graced him with a magnificent smile.  
“Oh, I’m sure you will. If anything, you know now where to find me in L.A., Mister Wayne.”

Going home with a warm feeling of contentment, she did not regret spending her afternoon in the company of a very polite and sophisticated man who seemed to share some of her believes and work ethics. Still; should she ever get the opportunity to meet him again, Pepper definitely felt compelled to mention her connection to Stark Industries; simply because she always liked to play it straight.

One thing she was unsure about was how or if she was supposed to tell Tony what happened; there was something to be said about sleeping dogs.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Los Angeles, November 2009  


“Peeepppperrrrrr…”

Tony Stark’s deep voice hollered through the vast corridors of Stark Industries. Office workers left and right stuck their heads out of their cubes to catch a rare glimpse of the man whose name was emblazoned outside the building. Others simply ducked away in anticipation of something unpleasant about to happen. Being employed by a superhero could always mean trouble; Stark was not called Iron Man for nothing.

An unfazed Dwight Johnson looked up from his screen when the jeans-clad CEO entered the anteroom, wearing a ‘The Doors’ t-shirt that was just a trifle too tight around the biceps. Not that the young assistant minded. Twirling his Initium sunshades in his left while balancing two large Starbucks coffee cups in his right, Tony frowned at the closed doors to his assistant’s office and shot the male assistant a questioning look.

“Good morning, Mister Stark. Miss Potts is currently attending a phone conference. Shall I let her know you’re here?”  
Without a hitch, Tony reached Pepper’s door; trademark megawatt smile instantly up.  
“Nah, I got this. She _loves_ surprises.”

He pushed the handle down with his elbow and entered with a smooth half spin on his heel. Dwight Johnson sighed but let him concede; there was no use stopping the force that was Tony Stark anyhow. Since seeing him around had become quite scarce, the assistant figured Miss Potts would not mind as well. Besides, Stark looked dashing in casual attire. And as usual, he smelled fantastic.

Sniffing loudly, Johnson sat back from where he had leaned over his desk to get a better view and got back to work.

At the noises from behind Pepper spun around in her chair and gave her unexpected visitor a look that said everything from ‘This should have been your job’ to ‘I’m so going to get you for this’. As Tony was about to open his mouth, she held up her finger in a shushing gesture of needing several more minutes and motioned for him to take a seat across from her desk.

Sauntering near, the billionaire placed his own coffee cup aside and gave her a pouting stare she purposely ignored as she spoke into the headset. Indignant, Tony started to goof around and made a big deal out of dangling the other cup in front of her face, pulling it away any time she tried to reach for it. With a mischievous grin, he watched her swatting at him whilst participating in the events over the line.

When Pepper was about to whack him with her Moleskin, he eventually relented, placed the cup on her desk, and was about to take the proffered seat when he recognized a familiar item. Tony then gave the Kinetic Desk Sculpture a very dirty look; born and raised a prodigy or not, it still annoyed the heck out of him. With a snort, he moved over to glance out of the large window front.

Hands clasped behind his back, he fidgeted back and forth and tried to overcome the strenuous task of waiting as he gazed out onto the vast SI premises. Eventually, Pepper pulled the headset off, leaned back into her chair, and exhaled through half-closed lips. Phone conferences were even worse than real ones, and she gladly would have had Tony attending the particular one as she scheduled him to.  
  
When the sound of his sneakered feet tapping the floor in a steady rhythm reached her ears, she swirled around and cast her wayward boss a rotten look. “Wow, you made it. Congratulations. Only fifty-five minutes late. Didn’t you get my message that the conference got postponed to 09:30?” Despite her scolding undertone, Pepper categorized those slip-ups of his as 'below-average' these days.  
  
Anything was better than having to cut him out of his metal suit barely alive. When it came to the business part of his life, her tactics had shifted towards making Tony squirm and feel bad about letting her down. That, in turn, would result in making him act contrite for the next couple of minutes or hours, depending on the severity of his atrocities, before his ingenious mind would push any rueful thoughts aside.

“Uhm, no?”  
  
It was a glorious hypothetical construct with benefits and losses on both sides, Pepper thought with a wistful sigh.  
Right there and then, it seemed to do the trick as the billionaire looked shamefaced enough for her to believe his sincerity.

“Tony…”

At her poignant undertone, he scratched the back of his head in confusion. He remembered Jarvis’ annoying reminders for some bi-monthly subsidiary something the whole morning until he had overridden the AI’s recall function and the ten-minute-reminders had finally stopped. Tony then hunkered down next to Pepper's desk in a mock-surrendering gesture and inched the cup into her direction.

Deadpan, Pepper reached for the hot beverage and accepted his flag of truce with a disgruntled snort. Using the kicked-puppy-dog eyes never failed him with her. His teeth gleamed at her, knowing he had scored, and she inwardly cursed him. She also cursed herself that, as his friend, she was far too easy to read. As his personal assistant, however, she did not want to let him off the hook yet and forced a frown between her brows.

“... I _know_ you did, lazypants. And coffee’s not enough to get back with me, let me tell you.” Pepper tried hard not to smile as she took her first sip. For what it was worth; even if Anthony Edward Stark, a genius with an IQ of somewhere well within the 200 range, was not, for the life of his, able to remember a single deadline regarding his company, he never forgot his assistant loved a grande caffè latte with skim milk and no sugar.  
  
Go figure where his priorities lay, Pepper dryly thought. It was kind of tragic.  
Tony grinned around his own cup.  
“Ah, but lazy's such an ugly word, Pep, I prefer the term 'selective participation'.”

“Okay Mister Selective Participation, apart from not attending your phone conf and doing the Starbuck’s run: Please tell me you not just popped in to say hi, but rather to speak with R&D and give them your heads up for the Green-Motion pilot project. I’ve had several emails from them this week - they’re unsure how to go on with… wait, what was it…”  
  
She stopped, found the email in question, and read aloud from the screen “… combining the high power output of fission without relenting to conventional fission reactors that use water for cooling.” “Yeah sure, I can do that. Teach them a lesson or two about the direct electricity conversion of betavoltaics. First-grader stuff. Why’s this concept so hard to grasp? Ugh, the agony!”  
  
Tony’s mock-whine and comically feigned fainting spell made Pepper laugh out loud. She nudged his shoulder with her fist. “Stop fishing for compliments genius, you know you’re the best we’ve got around here. So go on, help ‘em out but play nice.” With a smirk, he got up from where he still crouched next to her chair and stretched his back with a resounding pop.  
  
He looked rested for once, Pepper noticed with relief and had put back on some much-needed weight after his near-fatal Palladium poisoning. It was mostly due to her constant pampering, and watching him like a hawk to make sure he ate all the food she made, brought or ordered for him. Tony had always been a very good eater; just recently he had the habit of being so caught up in his projects he simply forgot to.

Apparently, though, flying around in an Iron suit also came with the perks of adding some serious muscle to his wiry 5’9 frame. Pepper made a mental note to arrange a meeting with Tony’s private tailor, to get his measurements for new shirts and suits taken. She also wanted to go through his numerous closets one by one, and donate the too tight and too small stuff to charity.

At the prospect of yet another point on her to do list, Pepper grabbed her Stark Phone and created a reminder. His voice then made her look up. “Hey, you’re free for lunch today? Let’s go somewhere together, my treat. Olive Garden?” Tony had started walking towards the door and gestured between them in mid-stride. Pepper smiled, put the phone aside and shuffled her meeting notes into one neat pile.  
  
It had become a rare commodity for the two of them to spend some time together, not just as boss and employee, but also as friends. Despite or because of everything that happened, they still valued each others company; though on slightly different levels these days. “Love to. I’ll make reservations for 1 PM. Please try to keep your shirt clean down in the lab.”  
  
Already out of the door Tony stuck his head back in with a leering grin and a naughty wiggle of his eyebrows.  
“Ahh, but don’t’cha love it when I’m gettin’ dirty, Potts?”  
Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Pepper re-typed a proper roundup from the conference.

***

As expected, the star-struck R&D crew hardly wanted to let their boss go. Tony still made it out of the lab with a minimum of stains on his jeans at 12:45. Thanks to his R8, they made it to Olive Garden almost in time, and the maitre d’ nearly bent over backward to get them the best table out on the terrace. The two of them shared some Bruschetta before ordering their respective entrees.  
  
Whilst Tony dug into his braised beef with full vigor after an hour and a half of demonstrating his craftsmanship at Stark Lab, Pepper listlessly poked her Venetian apricot chicken. She had lost her appetite after receiving yet another email from Wayne Enterprises shortly after Tony had left her office earlier on.  
  
The multi-industry company from Gotham was inquiring more insistently on a meeting with her very counterpart about potential joint ventures regarding the ARC technology. In turn, they offered thorough insight into their respectable grown subsidiary of Wayne Medical, and its sister company Wayne Biotech. It was a branch Stark Industries had been eager to advance in; long before Tony had shut down weapon’s manufacturing.

Unsure how he would react to the whole topic at hand, Pepper had not provided Tony with that new bit of information. It could be the start of something big, or it could backfire like no tomorrow. She knew Tony did not play well with others, to put it nicely. Never had, never would. Pepper had spent the whole lunchtime brooding over how to approach the subject; so far to no avail. Maybe all she needed was talking turkey.

After he was done Tony looked up from his empty plate and regarded his assistant and her half-filled plate with a puzzled look. “Something’s wrong? Your food’s not okay?” He placed his napkin aside and turned around to signal for a waiter. Pepper was quick to put a hand on his arm. “No, no, it’s good actually. Guess I’m just not that hungry, that’s all.” She put her cutlery aside and reached for her soda. Now or never.  
  
“By the way… have you heard about Wayne Enterprises’ advance with their Biotech Implantology?” She paused for emphasis and tried to make her voice sound less edgy and more casual. “It’s become quite the thing during the last couple of months. Might make things interesting for SI, what you think?” Mimicking her, Tony also grabbed his glass and took a big sip of his Coke.

“Nah Pep, c’mon. They’re nothing but moronic amateurs who don’t have the brains to come up with anything remotely interesting. WE might’ve been successful with their medical toys, but ages ago.” He smugly leaned back in his seat and looked at her over the rim of his shades. Then the corners of his mouth twisted upwards into a sardonic smile.  
  
“Besides, Wayne’s a douche. And I don’t do business with douches, remember? Or do I need to say 'Justin Hammer'?”  
  
For some other reason than his blatant chauvinism and derogate choice of words, Tony’s boastful comment irked her a lot. Pepper sat up a little straighter. “Have you ever met Bruce Wayne? As far as I know, no. WE is one of the top five biggest companies around. I’d say that’s quite impressive with a ‘douche’ at the helm, now isn’t it?” Tony stared at her for a couple of seconds.  
  
In one swift motion, he took off his shades to dramatically drop them on the table. His brown eyes blazed with defiance and determination.

“There’s at least one Stark Industries manufacturing plant in thirty countries around the globe and on all seven continents. Every military in the world is drooling over and begging on their knees for the Iron Man armor and its technology. We’re exclusive with S.H.I.E.L.D and the government. In short: We could blow Wayne out of the water if I just cared. So please, don’t get all mushy on me, Potts. Be glad you’re hangin with the cool kids.”

Underneath the table, Pepper crumpled her napkin within her fist. Tony’s arrogant smugness was the most unrefined character trait he possessed. It was usually reserved for people other than her, and she knew she was walking a fine line by what she just said. Not wanting to ruin the previously good mood any further, Pepper forced a pretty smile on her face and opted for de-escalation as she clicked her tongue.

“Oh, _very,_ Mister Stark. I’m very glad indeed. Even more so when it seems like you were paying attention to all those contracts and settlements I’ve had you signing for.” From where her hand still rested next to his forearm she moved it over to give the back of his hand a small squeeze before putting her arms back in her lap. With an air of self-righteousness, Tony nodded appeased, his good mood back in place.  
  
He leaned back, crossed muscular arms behind his head, and grinned with satisfaction, either to himself or to her. “Yeah, I’m literally on fire Potts, bout time you realize. So whaddaya say - let’s get back to the mansion and have ‘em box this...” he pointed his chin towards her leftovers “... up for later?” Without waiting for her response, he signaled their waiter to settle the bill and sent for a doggy bag.  
  
Pepper Potts collected her purse and blazer with a thoughtful expression. “Please drop me off at the office first; I forgot something important. I suppose I can be at your place in an hour if that’s fine by you?” Tony nodded. “Sure okay; I wanted to get in some rounds with Happy anyhow. Guy’s bound to get a little flabby there with the holiday season coming up, lemme tell you.”

They were already walking towards his convertible, and Pepper had trouble to keep up with his swift stride. Today was a regular four-inch-stiletto day, but the current pair did pinch her toes. Tony was oblivious to her discomfort, however, and continued to fiddle with the car keys before he jumped over the closed door and slid into his seat with one fluid motion.

Pepper walked around to open her passenger’s side door and tried to lower herself gracefully into the seat for the second time. Sports cars and pencil skirts did not go well together, and the PA cast her boss a very icy glare when she caught him staring at her exposed legs with an air of appreciation. “Whoa, looking good there Pep. Been working out lately?”

As she opened her mouth to give him a proper retort the V8 sprung to life with a mighty roar. Tony gunned it out of the restaurant’s parking lot before the woman next to him had time to buckle up. Shrieking in surprise, Pepper held on tight onto the door handle while she struggled one-handed for the safety belt latch. After a couple of seconds, she succeeded and noticed in horror he was watching her with a devilish look on his face.

“For goodness sake watch the road, Stark. This isn’t funny!”

His hearty laughter mingled with the sounds of the engine as they sped along the highway.

 


	4. Chapter 4

When Tony had dropped her off safely and left for his domicile, Pepper marched into her office, signalled Dwight she did not want to be interrupted for the rest of the day and closed the doors behind her. Walking around her desk she threw her purse onto it and slid her blazer over the back of her chair, rolling too-tight shoulders in the process.  
  
She dropped into her seat and placed both elbows on the desktop to bury her face in her hands; massaging away the tension at the temples which she had not felt until the very moment. After hibernating for about five minutes and going through various scenarios, Pepper eventually straightened up, took a deep breath and put her headset on. At the third ring, the line got picked up.

“Welcome to Wayne Enterprises. My name is Pamela Jones, how may I help you?”  
Pepper wet her lips, crossed her legs and tapped her fingers on her thigh.  
“Good afternoon. This is Virginia Potts, from Stark Industries. Mister Bruce Wayne, please.”

“Mister Wayne is currently in a meeting Miss Potts, would you like to leave a message?”  
Pepper raised an eyebrow.  
“I’m afraid I have to insist, Miss Jones. Mister Wayne has been expecting my call earlier this week. Please try to put me through. Thank you.”

Her polite but assertive tone, usually reserved for Tony messing up, left no room for arguing. The woman on the other end told her to hold the line after inquiring about her name again. Two minutes later the receptionist got back to her. “Miss Potts? Mister Wayne requests a vidcon with you. Please stand by; the system will automatically log you on. Do not switch off your current connection. Vidcon starts in 45 seconds. Good day.”

As soon as they got disconnected and Pepper was met with some decent music on hold, she sprang into action. Lunging across the desk for her purse, she fumbled for her pocket mirror to check hair, teeth and make up. After applying fresh lip gloss, Pepper slid back into her blazer to hide possible sweat stains and straightened out her blouse. With a final tug she readjusted her headset and stared at the blank screen.

And all of a sudden, there he was.

Sitting in a similar office background like hers, Bruce Wayne regarded her without speaking a word. His eyes roamed across her features, fingers stapled in front of his face. From what she could make out of his half-hidden countenance were dark circles under his eyes, and something like faint bruising on his left jaw. Pepper stopped staring at him in return and figured she should say something.

“Good afternoon, Mister Wayne. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me.”  
She cleared her throat and was glad for her steady voice. He finally moved, placed his hands on the armrests, and raised his eyebrows.  
“Next time I’ll approach a beautiful lady in an art gallery, I should most definitely take a look at her CV.”

Pepper’s heart suddenly beat hard and fast against her chest and it took all of her willpower not to squirm under his scrutiny. Not about to grant him satisfaction, she held her chin a little higher whilst giving him a condescending smile and neatly folded her hands in her lap. “Next time _I_ get approached by a stranger in an art gallery, who defends two-bit artistry to the marrow, I should take to my heels immediately.”  
  
They stared at each other for several moments before erupting in mutual laughter.  
  
“Well Miss Potts - this time you definitely have to make it up to _me_ in return.” Bruce Wayne graced her with a triumphant, quite impish smirk, despite his cool façade. “Withholding information you’re working for the notorious Iron Man accounts for more than just a cup of coffee, though. We’re straight up talking dinner territory here.”

She fought hard to avoid the blush that was creeping up her neck, shifted in her seat and kept her tone professional. “The reason I decided to give you a call and clear things up is your company’s recent approach to Stark Industries. I’ve been thinking about our encounter last Saturday and...”

“Yeah, so have I. About you.”  
  
His quiet interruption flustered her, and her eyes darted back and forth between screen and keyboard. “Well, I… anyways. After last Saturday, I felt like not having told you the complete truth - even if I’m not obligated to explain personal matters to strangers.” She smiled coyly; self-assurance back in place. “Still, I thought it's best to start off any possible business relations on the right foot. Wouldn’t you agree, Mister Wayne?”

When it was his turn to nod, his expression seemed unenthusiastic of the shift towards business matters. Pepper inhaled and continued to talk before he would try to throw her off-balance again. “Unfortunately though, Mister Stark’s schedule doesn’t allow any face time meetings other than in-house matters at the moment. As soon as there’s an opportunity, I’d like to pencil in an appointment, if that is okay with you?”

Just then, Bruce Wayne’s attention got diverted by something off-screen.  
  
After he had given some non-verbal orders, he focussed back on her. ”Excuse me, Miss Potts, but my next appointment is already waiting. What you were saying though - yes, let’s leave it at that for the moment, but I wanted to get on to another topic…” He gave her a guarded smile. “… regarding your sentiments on my latest purchase. It’s a Miró. I am not too sure about it and would like a second opinion. Yours, preferably.”

Pepper found herself torn between being instantly intrigued and cautious at the same time. He could not even know Miró had always been one of her favourite artists. ”Hmm, while I’d love to Mister Wayne, I’m afraid I cannot file a leave for Gotham City just because of leisure activities.” Shaking his head he leaned back and propped his chin up on his right hand. A certain smugness surrounded him.  
  
“Oh, you don’t have to – I’ll be back in L.A. this weekend to pick up the painting, so I suggest dinner on Friday evening?”  
  
With a bashful laugh, Pepper twirled a strand of her ponytail. He was flustering her more than she figured he could. “You seem to forget L.A. is full of paparazzi. They’d most definitely have a field day.” She wisely refrained from mentioning Tony’s ginormous hissy fit when caught his assistant getting friendly with a major contender of his on the cover of US Magazine.   
  
Bruce Wayne seemed to ponder her objection for a few seconds before his countenance lit up. “I think it will take the edge off if I just invite you onto my yacht then. We will be docking at Marina del Rey. I promise no paparazzi or compromising situations whatsoever, Miss Potts. Please, be my guest for just one evening.” When her reserve had crumbled to pieces Pepper finally clapped her hands together.   
  
“Okay Mister Wayne, I will be there at 7.”  
  
During the short drive to Stark Mansion, she wondered, for the second time in a row, whether she was doing the right thing.

***

Thursday came and went without any serious incidents, giving Pepper more time to dwell on her upcoming encounter on Friday.  
  
She knew how much Tony hated when she had plans, so she decided against telling him anything. Instead, she was the epitome of cool; making sure to prepare anything, from food to wardrobe to his agenda for the upcoming week, so that he would be able to make it on his own until Monday and leave the speed dial button for her mobile untouched.

It was not just the fact she was meeting Bruce Wayne, of all people.  
  
Whenever Pepper tried to squeeze in some sort of dating life around her working hours, Tony either sulked like a little kid for days on end or, even worse, managed to ruin every date with his constant calls and texting terror. And afterward, when she was angry with him for ruining yet another chance, he went and did something nice for her.  
  
During all of those years, Pepper had lost count of all the spa vouchers, nice pieces of jewelry or the latest pairs of Jimmy Choo’s she had longingly eyed online he had doused her with as means of apology. That time around, however, things would be different.  
  
On Friday at 4:30, Pepper sent Tony a text stating she was calling it a day and that he should please turn to Jarvis for anything missing which she might not have prepped or organized, however unlikely. She told Dwight to have a nice weekend and drove off towards her condo near Paradise Cove to get ready for the evening.  
  
Tony had bought the spacious two-room penthouse for her roughly six years ago, despite her heavy protests about wanting to stay financially and locally independent. Being used to getting what he wanted, the billionaire had shrugged and stated his personal assistant needed to be at his beck and call most of the time, so Paradise Cove it was.  
  
A ten-minute drive away from Stark Mansion, front row with a glorious ocean and seaside view, ready-furnished and more than Pepper ever dreamed of, the apartment was top-notch. She had fallen in love with it at first sight and intended to buy it off of him at some point; aware most of her savings originated from the overpay that was her monthly salary.

Entering the private garage with her swipe-card, Pepper took the elevator straight up into her apartment and slipped out of her heels with a relieved sigh. She showered and stood in front of her closet fifteen minutes later, clad in her favorite bathrobe. As she rummaged through rows of dresses, blouses and skirts, Pepper decided to stay on the safe side.  
  
Lest of all she did not want to give Bruce Wayne the impression she was an easy catch; swooning over his billionaire charm and good looks, of which, she had to admit, he both had plenty. In the end, she chose a pair of slim cropped dress pants in black and a crisp white top with a slightly swingy silhouette. Her hair got pulled up in a high pony tail, and she put in her latest diamond earrings.  
  
They had been a surprise birthday present from Tony some weeks ago; showing her that, for once, he had not forgotten what September 27th meant, apart from it being his annual leave for that fateful Afghanistan trip. She finished her outfit with a pair of comfortable black-and-white printed, pointy pumps and examined her work in the mirror.  
  
As she applied some decent makeup and fragrance, Pepper’s eyes came to rest on her red clutch on the hall stand. Ever the meticulous one she went and replaced her prototype mobile with her well-worn Blackberry and left the Stark Phone on the kitchenette counter. With an old SIM card, she brought the Blackberry to life and twiddled awkwardly with it at first; too accustomed to the intuitive handling of Tony’s gadget.  
  
Since Pepper knew all important numbers by heart, she left the directory empty and slid the mobile into her bag. She continued to rummage through her purse and took out her many SI access-all-areas cards, until there was nothing left apart from her identity card and some change. The last thing Pepper needed was getting monitored or scanned by Wayne Enterprises and creating a data leak for SI in the process.  
  
The cab at 6:30 arrived on time, and the young woman gave the driver the address before she leaned back in the seat and fought her nervousness whilst watching the dusk and the scenery outside flying by.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been unable to get my hands on Pepper's correct DOB, so I just rolled with it and used GP's one.


	5. Chapter 5

The 'Sovereign' was one of the most impressive motor yachts Pepper had ever seen in her life; and being around Tony Stark, she had already seen plenty. Its dark metallic hull gleamed off into the illuminated harbor area where the 330 ft giant sat enthroned between the landing stages of ‘Promenade Way’ and ‘Palawan Way’ and radiated confidence, wealth and superiority from far away.

Even if Bruce Wayne had not given her the name of his ship, Pepper knew to head for the largest vessel around by instinct. She swallowed against a rough throat after she paid the cabdriver and made her way over to where two large, black-clad men with dark shades were standing guard. At her approach, they gave a polite greeting, and one of them removed the red-velvet cordon and motioned for her to pass.  
  
With slow, careful steps Pepper stepped on the raised walkway, up to where an elderly man dressed in an elegant butlers’ uniform was already waiting for her and gave her a hand for the last couple of steps. “Good evening Miss Potts. Welcome aboard the 'Sovereign'. My name is Alfred, I am the personal butler of Mister Wayne.” His quiet, dignified behavior was to her liking, and Pepper thanked him before he continued.  
  
“May I kindly be allowed to run a quick scan for safety measures? This will of course be completely harmless and only take a couple of seconds.” Nodding, she started to spread her arms, but the butler kindly waved her off. “Please Miss Potts, there is no need. Just stand still and it will be over before you know it.” After three seconds, a small transmitter attached to Alfred’s front pocket gave a small beep and blinked green.  
  
“Thank you Madam, that was all. May I lead you over to the table?”

He extended his arm into the direction of the ship’s main area. Following his motion, Pepper’s eyes wandered along the spaciousness of the upper deck. The sharp contrast of gleaming metal mingled well with natural essences like wengé and durmast woods. Everything was put together in good taste; with fabrics and leathers of subtle color which created a sense of largeness and brightness.  
  
Glancing around in awe, Pepper smiled at the older man and started walking towards the stern. “Mister Wayne kindly asks you to excuse his slight delay; he will be accompanying you in a few minutes. May I offer you something to drink in the meantime?” Pepper found her voice as she took a seat at a luxuriously set table for two. “Oh that’s alright. And yes, a glass of water would be lovely, Mister Alfred, thank you.”

He looked at her with the same benign expression from before whilst walking over to the bar corner to fulfill her wish. “It is simply Alfred, Miss Potts. I take it you do like the ship?” After she took the proffered crystal tumbler from him, Pepper continued to look around. “This is the most stunning and beautiful yacht I ever had the pleasure of boarding.” She sipped on the sparkling water and placed her clutch aside.  
  
A well-hidden smirk flittered across Alfred’s face. “Very pleased to hear this, Madam; seeing this first-class-vessel has only been in Master Wayne’s property since Thursday morning.” If Pepper thought she was stunned before, she now had problems to close her gaping mouth. ”Are you saying Mister Wayne just bought this yacht… yesterday?!” Footsteps from behind interrupted them before Alfred could answer her question.  
  
Bruce Wayne emerged from the private area; looking freshly showered with his damp hair neatly combed back. He wore white dress pants with matching loafers, and a formfitting, navy blue polo shirt. A light gray, knitted cardigan was casually slung around his shoulders. “Yes, in fact that’s true. It was kind of… a real bargain, wasn’t it Alfred?”

The billionaire passed his butler with a knowing look; eyes all but lighting up when he saw his guest. Bruce made his way around to where she sat and took her outstretched hand. As he indicated a kiss, Pepper felt how her cheeks heated up at the chivalrous gesture, but tried to steer the focus back onto the previous topic of the yacht.

“Mister Wayne, I can hardly believe it. I thought you told me about purchasing a painting?”

He took a seat across from her while he too accepted a tumbler filled with water from his butler. After he had stretched out his long legs underneath the table, Bruce Wayne twirled the crystal glass in between his fingers and solemnly looked out into the sunset of Los Angeles. He gave a small pout of his bottom lip before his eyes found hers again.

“True. But since I wanted to take the “Peinture” with me right away, I needed proper means of transport. Thus…” He pointed an index finger around and her eyes followed his motions, until she realized he meant the vessel itself. “…this was my preferred weapon of choice. Or, in other words: I hate overly long car rides and always wanted to own a yacht anyways.”

Pepper was too lost in thought to notice the slight harrumph from the butler in the back. The second, meaningful glance Bruce cast into Alfred’s direction went unnoticed by her as well. She mulled over the fact how the man in front had spent millions for one of Miró’s highest valued paintings, plus a multi-million dollar yacht en passant, and did not even have the decency to look anything but nonchalant about it.  
  
Maybe Bruce Wayne could give Tony Stark a run for his money when it came to eccentricities after all. Pepper then smiled as her tone took on a teasing note. “So I will in fact get to see your other, exquisite purchase later on, Mister Wayne?” He held up his glass and she responded in unison. ”Most definitely, Miss Potts. But please, call me Bruce.”  
  
A flicker of raw emotion flew across his usual mastered countenance; so brief that Pepper almost did not catch it before it was gone again. She nodded with a smile. “Only if you call me Pepper” At his puzzled look, she made a sweeping gesture with her arm. She had almost forgotten how bizarre it felt to explain her nickname to strangers, and thus opted for an abridged version.  
  
“Because nobody ever calls me Virginia anymore, except that old lady from the grocery store in my home-town, bless her heart.” This elected a chuckle from the billionaire, before Bruce Wayne pursed his lips and shrugged in acceptance. His eyes twinkled as he regarded her. “Fair enough… Pepper. If this means I’ll get the real story behind that nickname later on?” It was Pepper’s turn to look smug.  
  
“You might indeed… Bruce.”

Unbeknownst to her and the three-course dinner aboard the 'Sovereign', her StarkPhone blinked an incoming call that was lost to the darkness of her apartment.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sovereign, its marvelous design, and all credits for it go to the amazing Eduard Gray and his futuristic concept yachts and vehicles. Damn, if only I had money aplenty..


	6. Chapter 6

Province of Sichuan, November 2009  
  


“Miss Potts is not responding to your call, Sir. Shall I leave a message on her voice box?”

Jarvis’ calm voice resounded through the helmet of Mark VI. Disdained, Tony glimpsed at the “Call failed” message icon inside his HUD and grunted. Somewhere, at the other end of the world, Iron Man scrambled up from where he had failed to dodge the Chinese type 59 tank shell which had frontally hit and thrown him through the air like a rag doll.

Inside the hightech suit, a heavy-panting Tony Stark tried not to black out from the impact before he rolled over on his the side as another shell exploded two meters next to him. He cursed his lack of foresight and started to fire several rounds of repulsor blasts at the forty-ton vehicle, watching it explode in a fiery ball with grim satisfaction.

“No, keep tryin'. I’m gonna need some backup when I’m coming home.”

Another round of missiles flew in his direction, this time taking down the concrete walls behind, and pouring rubble and debris his way. One particular large chunk grazed Tony’s shoulder and sent him back reeling to the floor. Jarvis unfazed voice filled his ringing ears as alerts started to bleep around him. The inventor grunted and blinked against rivulets of sweat and blood running down and stinging his eyes.

“Critical hit to the back and shoulder mounted ailerons. Shoulder anti-personnel guns: Out of order. Cooling system: Out of order. Remaining power level of Mark VI at 57 percent.”

From what he assumed, even without Jarvis’ scans, was that he most likely sported a minor concussion by now and had at least several pulled muscles in his left shoulder. Morbidly enough, Tony found it funny how his first thought was for Pepper, and how she was most definitely not going to like it. In fact she never coped too well when he got home all banged up, even though her first aid skills had vastly improved in the past months.

“Yeah, no kiddin', J. Gimme more power to the thrusters.”

After he fought off a wave of nausea and dizziness Tony fired up his repulsor jet packs and lifted into the air once more. His HUD scanned the area for the remaining tank that was making its way over to where he hovered. Iron Man mobilized all strength reserves that he could and landed upon the tank. With force he yanked the large-caliber main gun off the rotating turret and threw it aside.

The disassembled tank gave an unexpected lurch backwards and resulted in Tony losing his footing and tumbling down in front of the continuous tracks. Too slow to roll out of the way he howled in agony as his already mangled left shoulder got caught underneath the tank.

“JARVIS – UNIBEAM!”  
  
Various progress bars and diagrams started popping up on his wildly flickering HUD. “Sir, using the Unibeam with the current Mark VI version will result in at least 30 percent battery power loss. Total remaining power level is now at 46 percent.”

“DO. IT. JARVIS!”

Tony all but screamed at his AI whilst fighting hard against the tank that tried to squash him. His arms started to shake and he gritted his teeth. He mentally berated himself for messing with Mark VI before he left and swore to himself to never again do another test run on a mission that involved heavily armed opponents. When he felt Jarvis igniting the Unibeam process, Tony closed his eyes.

The energy got sucked in large waves from his RT as the secondary repulsor blast emitted from his chest. It illuminated the dark skies of rural China for several seconds, blasted the hostile tank to smithereens and left a spent Iron Man lying face up in a ring of burnt soil, his ARC flickering unsteadily. “… some party. Status?” Raising his head weakly, Tony looked around once before dropping it back to the floor.  
  
“Power status: Critic. All systems shutting down for standby power mode. Ability to restart: 15 minutes.” With a groan, Tony tried to get his laboured breathing under control. He fought against the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him; his heartbeat spluttering and irregular. “Get me home on autopilot ASAP, J - don’t think I can stay awake much longer. And keep trying to reach Pepper.”

Tony Stark passed out even before he heard his AI’s answer.

***

Los Angeles, November 2009  


At 11 PM, Pepper Potts stood facing Bruce Wayne at the walkway of his yacht. She glanced out into the night and listened to the calm waves of the sea lapping gently against the hull. “Bruce, this has been a wonderful evening, thank you so much.” He smiled back in return, but made no move to advance on her. Instead, he shoved his left hand into the pocket of his trousers and leaned against the railing.

“The pleasure was mine, Pepper. I hope to be able to repeat it sometime soon - if it doesn’t cause you too much trouble, that is.”

Pepper’s eyebrows knitted together in a frown. She was walking on thin ice and she knew it. She; the long-time personal assistant to Mister Anthony Edward Stark, felt eerily comfortable in the presence of another playboy billionaire industrialist. Somehow though, Bruce did not fit that role, other than Tony who loved to act like a personification of a modern Hugh Heffner.

No, the man in front seemed rather uninterested in talking business or getting her into his bed upon first chance, which was uncommon enough.  
  
It puzzled her beyond belief how Bruce Wayne seemed to genuinely try to break through her barriers. With more than an ounce of disbelief and mistrust, she wondered if it could be the Gotham billionaire was just as weary of superficial and shallow relationships as her. While she was not yet ready to believe there were no ulterior motives involved on his part, she found herself wanting to give him the benefit of doubt.

“Dealing with trouble comes with the territory for me. If we can keep this from prying eyes, I can very well imagine us meeting again. Still…” Pepper brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and watched Bruce watching her movement. “… this will be the second time I’m leaving without us exchanging numbers. I’m… I hope you understand.” His eyes narrowed for a second before his expression became indifferent.  
  
“As you wish, Milady – I’ve always enjoyed a challenge.”  
  
They turned around and saw the cab for her coming in down at the mole. Wanting to make up for her bold statement, Pepper reached out and took Bruce’s right hand. His large palm was cool to the touch and his long, elegant fingers neatly manicured. Whilst she gave it a gentle squeeze she could not help but wonder why the inside of his hand felt rough and callused; almost like Tony’s.  
  
Yet another piece of a puzzle which did not fit the picture perfect of a playboy billionaire industrialist by the book.

“Goodnight, Bruce.”

“Goodnight, Pepper.”

From her place in the back of the cab, she twisted in her seat and saw him still at the railing, unmoving, watching her leave. She watched him in return until the cab drove round the corner and the 'Sovereign' disappeared from her view. When Pepper entered her apartment a little before midnight, she slipped out of her shoes, switched on the lights and walked over to the kitchen looking for a glass of water.  
  
Her eyes came to rest upon the blinking Stark Phone that lay lost where she had left it on her kitchen counter.  
' _Seven missed calls'  
_ With a sense of dread creeping up her spine, Pepper quickly scrolled through the list - all of them were from Tony.

Speed-dialling his number she paced through her living room whilst waiting for him to pick up the phone. At the same time she put her heels back on and threw all of her previously emptied belongings back into the purse. After several rings, the line went straight over to voicemail and she pressed a key to get connected with Jarvis instead. Upon hearing the AI's greeting, Pepper interrupted him harshly.

“Jarvis! What’s wrong? Tony doesn’t answer his phone but tried to call me seven times!”

“Mister Stark is currently not in the condition to answer the phone, Miss Potts. He requested me to keep calling you in order to let you know your medical services are required tonight.” Pepper was out of the door in two seconds, taking two stairs at once towards the garage. She bolted for her car in a steady jog and unlocked it from afar; phone pressed to her ear.

“How bad is it, Jarvis? Do we need to call an ambulance?”

After she reached her Jaguar XK, she threw the purse on the passenger’s seat, wedged the phone between ear and shoulder and ignited the engine. With a roar the sports car came to life; tires screeching on the concrete as she rounded the corners towards the garage doors. “Mister Stark insisted on not calling an ambulance, Madam. He has suffered a mild concussion, a dislocated shoulder, and several minor, exterior wounds.”

Pepper put Jarvis on the hands-free speaking system to throw her phone next to her handbag.  
She pulled out of the condo complex and sped onto the highway towards Stark Mansion.  
“Can I speak to him?”

“I’m afraid no, Miss Potts. Mister Stark lost consciousness again approximately ten minutes ago after setting his dislocated shoulder on his own.”  
Pepper winced at the mental image while the AI continued to talk in its unfazed way.  
“After using up most of the suit’s energy in battle, the ARC reactor needs sufficient time to get back to full power.”

“I’ll be there as fast as I can. If Tony’s responsive, please let him know I’m coming.” Gripping the wheel, Pepper put down her foot on the accelerator and made it in less than eight minutes. She bolted through the already opened door with a mumbled thanks to the AI and raced for the workshop, yanking the first aid kit off the wall in the process.

She found him half sitting, half propped up against the leather couch in the back of the workshop; bits and pieces of the damaged suit strewn around haphazardly on the floor. His eyes were closed and he cradled his left arm in his lap. Pepper dropped to her knees in front of his still form, hesitant to touch him while he was out. ”Tony! God, Tony – please! Wake up.”  
  
Just then he opened his eyes and blinked a few times, dazed. When he realized it was her, Tony gave a weak smile. “Hey… Pep. Glad you could make it. Only fifty-five minutes late…” His voice sounded raspy as he tried to chuckle. “… now we’re even, huh?” He turned his face away from her as a dry cough wracked his body. Pepper focussed on getting him off the floor and gently lowered him on the couch.  
  
He smelled of sweat, blood, and grime, and his labored breath sounded ragged and painful. “Shush now, let me do this. Hold still and don’t aggravate anything further.” She walked over to the Shop’s kitchenette and prepared a bowl of warm water with drops of soap, before she cut up bandages and wet each of them with a disinfectant spray.  
  
Tony followed her motions with tired eyes, until he got dizzy and had to close them. His mouth was clamped shut as his stomach started to churn heavily. He curled himself together but it was already too late. “Pep… I think I’m gonna be…” Before she was able to react, Tony bent over the armrest and started to retch violently; mostly bile and water since his last meal had been hours ago.  
  
Angry at herself, Pepper Potts turned around and the faucet off. With her sleeve she swiped away the silent tears that rolled down her face and sniffed. She made her way back to where he lay, shivering from exhaustion. ”Shh, it’ll be alright. Just try to relax and turn around to me. Careful there… yes, that’s it.” She wiped a warm cloth over his his face and head multiple times.  
  
When she went to carefully cut apart his stained undersuit, her eyes fell on the faint glowing reactor embedded in his chest. Pepper put a gentle hand upon its cold surface. “I’m sorry Tony, so sorry for not being here on time when you needed me.” The billionaire who drifted in and out of consciousness, however, did not hear her mumblings. It took an hour to tend to all cuts, lacerations and bruises she could find.  
  
Throwing the sponge into the muddled water bowl, Pepper eventually placed the first aid kit aside. She felt his forehead for a potential fever and was glad it seemed to be fairly cool and dry. Clad only in his underpants, she noticed the goose bumps running all over his body, and reached for the woolen blanket to cover his prone form. When he did not stop to shiver, she inched nearer until she was able to cradle his head in her lap.  
  
Her fingers absentmindedly ran through his sweated hair as Pepper whispered towards the AI. “Jarvis? Are you monitoring him? And inform me if his condition changes for the worse?” “Most certainly, Miss Potts. Mister Stark has fallen asleep. There are no internal injuries or complications regarding his minor concussion. Ten hours of sleep will aid his recovery.”

Relieved, Pepper tried to get a little more comfortable without hustling her resting cargo. She slid down further into the couch and leaned her head against the backrest, closed her eyes and felt the adrenaline bleed out of her. At some point during the night, Pepper Potts then slipped off into a light sleep herself. Nevertheless, she still jolted awake every single time Tony shifted or gave a small groan in his sleep.

She then would resume running her fingers through his hair, and murmured sweet nothings until he stilled again.

 


	7. Chapter 7

When Tony Stark came to the next morning, he tried to remember which awesome party he had attended the night before that left him with the mightiest hangover he could imagine. Blinking a few times to adjust his vision he found himself not lying in his king-sized bed wrapped in Egyptian cotton sheets, but rather underneath a scratching woolen blanket and staring up at the concrete ceiling of his workshop.

His momentary confusion did not last long as previous events came rushing back to his mind with vigor; and with them the pain of his awakened body. Stifling a pain-filled groan, Tony got aware of a familiar presence. He turned his head upwards until he was met with the sleeping, dishevelled countenance of Pepper Potts. He realized how she was cradling his head in her lap and slept awkwardly in a sitting position.

Dumbfounded, the billionaire looked down to where their hands lay entwined above the blanket; almost in a protective gesture. He would have continued his silent observations if would not have been for a coughing fit that erupted from his throat. Pepper’s eyes snapped open at once and she glanced down at him as if she saw him for the first time. Tony tried to put up a brave smile for her.

“Hey.”

She barely suppressed a sob at that. Embarrassed Pepper let go of his hands and reached for his forehead instead, cool hands feeling for a fever that thankfully was not there.

“Hey yourself. How are you feeling?”

Tony probed around his mind and body, and winced as he took inventory of all places that hurt. He decided listing places which did not hurt would be quicker; he could narrow those down to zero.

“Like someone threw me under a tank.”  
When he tried to move into a sitting position his left shoulder loudly protested and he hissed through closed teeth.  
“No wait, _that_ actually happened.”

Pepper stared at him in shock, put her hands down on his chest and prevented him from getting up.  
“Wait – you… you _what_?!”  
She opened and closed her mouth multiple times which reminded Tony of an onshore fish.

It made him grin, only to wince as the movement tore his split bottom lip open.  
“Mhm, minor fuckup on my part. Now do me a favour, Potts, and help me up – I need to pee like really, really badly.”  
Together they managed to get him into a standing position, when he noticed his state of undress as the blanket pooled down at his feet.

”Wow Pep - didn’t know you had it in ya.”  
She rolled her eyes at his suggestive eyebrow wiggle, nonetheless glad his wisecracking innuendo was already back in place.  
“Oh shut up Stark. Better be glad I got you out of this smelly thing…”

She pointed with disgust down to where the undersuit laid in tatters.  
“… before it melted into your skin.”

“Yeah excuses, excuses.”

Tony muttered along as he moved over to the elevator. He signaled for DUM-E to clean up the mess around the shop and leaned against the wall. He felt drained from the few steps and allowed his assistant to guide him upwards to his master bathroom without any further protests or snarky remarks. As soon as he had disappeared in the restroom Pepper took the opportunity to look at herself in the huge mirror.

She instantly regretted her mistake. Her clothes were rumpled and stained with whatever substances she had tried to wash off of Tony last night. Her sleek ponytail had come loose during the night, dangling sadly askew at her shoulders. Black mascara stains were smeared across her cheeks; encrusted pathways from underneath two bloodshot eyes that were tiredly looking back at her.

“Fantastic.”

The sound of flushing brought her out of her reverie. Tony emerged from the restroom, limped over to the ground-level rainforest shower cabin and, without blinking an eye, threw his boxers into the laundry chute. Pepper discreetly turned around until his naked form had disappeared within the extravagant rainforest shower and he had turned up the water.

The lower part of the glass front was tinted, but she could see him bracing himself against the wall underneath the luscious torrent as the hot water cascaded down his lowered head and hunched shoulders. The cabin started to get engulfed by steam very fast and obscured her vision from where she had covertly regarded him through the bathroom mirror.

She opened the tap and washed grimy hands before she bent down to splash cool water on her face and neck; trying to rub at the black streaks on her cheeks. After she dried herself with a guest towel, the young woman used mouthwash and redid her hair up into a tight bun. Tony’s voice then wafted over to her from the shower, muffled as he brushed his teeth.

“So, where you've been last night? Jarvis tried to call you like a dozen times.”  
The way he said it with was devoid of any accusation, but Pepper felt uncomfortable and averted to look up into the mirror.  
“I went to the gym late and somehow missed out on my phone. It won’t happen again.”

She gripped the rim of the marble lavatory and briefly closed her eyes. There she was, getting herself deep into trouble.  
“Uh-huh, no worries. Oh, and hey Pep?”

At his questioning tone, she forced herself to turn around and look at him. He had moved nearer to the door to look at her from underneath a dark, wet mop of hair. The steam around him and his RT created an almost halo-like surrounding. She swallowed hard.

“Yeah?”

“Could you get me something against a killer headache - Advil or Tylenol, whatever – ginormous coffee and something to eat? Something fat and greasy. I’m starved like crazy.” Tony wiped a hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. Releasing a breath she did not know she was holding, Pepper went to the door.

“Of course. I’ll be downstairs. Do you need anything else?”  
He made an inviting gesture and wiggled his eyebrow in what he assumed was seductive.  
“Might need some help with washing certain parts I can’t reach with my bad shoulder…”

Turning around, doorknob in hand, Pepper shot him a pointed look that needed no further explanation.  
Tony held up hands and toothbrush in mock surrender and nodded, sincere.  
“Yeah, fine, I’ll, ah, manage on my own, no prob.”

***

The billionaire emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, in a trademark black wifebeater with matching sweatpants. His hair remained a damp, unruly mess but his goatee was back to shaved perfection. He found his assistant in the kitchen next to a large bowl of pancake batter. The espresso machine sputtered, and a huge glass of freshly squeezed orange juice stood for him on the counter, next to an open pack of aspirin.

At his entrance, Pepper noted with relief the ARC seemed to be back to its full glowing capacity.  
“How’s the shoulder?”  
Tony grimaced a little as he tried a rolling movement and his right hand reached up to massage the area.

“Sore as hell and probably will be for a couple of days. At least Jarvis’ scans showed no permanent damage.” He walked past her and snatched the glass of juice. After he had popped two pills into his mouth, Tony took a few greedy sips and glimpsed out to where Pepper had set the table underneath a large offset umbrella. She pointed her chin towards the terrace.

“Go have a seat. Food’s coming up any minute.”  
He peeked over her shoulder where Pepper was busy washing blueberries.  
“Yes Ma’am.”

With a stolen handful of fruit, Tony sauntered outside and eased himself into a teak wood chair. Ten minutes later he was in the process of wolfing down a huge batch of blueberry pancakes and washed them down with a large cup of caffè latte. His assistant leaned in the open door and watched him polish off his plate whilst sipping on a very strong espresso herself. The previous night had more than taken its toll on her.

All Pepper wanted was to get home and out of her reeking clothes, have a long hot shower and crawl into the sheets to sleep through the rest of the dreadful Saturday. Stifling a yawn, she looked at her watch. Almost 2:30. Just then, Tony pushed an empty plate away from him and leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grunt.

“Awesome, Pep. Didn’t you want any?”  
When there was no immediate response, he turned to see her standing in the same spot, eyes half closed and oozing fatigue.  
“Hey sleepyhead, why don’t you just crash here? We could get your stuff to the dry-cleaning and you’d be good to go in about two hours.”

Tony got to his feet and trudged over to lie down and disappear in one of the deck chairs around the spacious, semi-circular patio. At the thought of her clothes being collected by the same dry cleaning lady who knew Pepper to be the one who used to bring other women’s skimpy dresses around, a feeling of dread shook her from her momentary low. She stepped over to collect his cutlery and plate.

“No, I’d rather leave now and get home. You good on your own?”  
The answer was a pair of sweatpants and a wifebeater thrown haphazardly over the rest.  
“Mhm.”

With a roll of her eyes, Pepper left him to his self-designated nudist area, turned on her heel and stepped back inside to put the used tableware into the dishwasher and exit the mansion. As she sat in her car, jittery from lack of sleep and too much caffeine, she made a decision. Something like last night could not and would not happen ever again - and if it meant no more connections to Bruce Wayne, then so was it.

Fate could not get any clearer. She had to realize her flight of fancy had been delusional and not only caused her to lie to Tony but also to neglect her priorities. Shamefaced, Pepper ignited the Jaguar and left for her apartment. The rest of the Saturday was lost to her as she slept through it until evening rolled around and she was busy to get the stains out of her brand new designer shirt.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Malibu, January 2010  


Many weeks later, Tony’s shoulder was back to being as good as new, Pepper’s guilty conscience had ebbed off and there were no signs whatsoever from Bruce Wayne. Pepper mostly was glad for the latter; after having come to terms with the stupidity of her brief stunt. She was meanwhile able to laughingly chalk it up as 'That one time Pepper did something foolish'.

Until she arrived at work one Monday morning and found a single black rose next to an envelope on her otherwise meticulous desk.

Frowning at it all the way from the door to her chair, Pepper took a seat and reached out for the nondescript item. No address and no stamp led her to assume it must have been delivered in person. Carefully fingering the delicate petals Pepper deeply exhaled, felt that she should have known better, and touched the sensor button on her intercom.

“Dwight?”

“Yes, Miss Potts?”

“Who delivered the envelope and the flower?”

A pause. Then Dwight Johnson responded with a polite, but cautious undertone in his voice.  
”I’m sorry, but I’ve had no delivery this morning, Miss Potts. Is... everything alright?”  
She palmed her forehead and drummed the envelope against her thigh.  
  
Putting her finger on the intercom button again, she leaned forward. “Yes, I just… remembered something, never mind. Thank you, Dwight.” Tucking her hand under her chin, Pepper stared at the peculiar flower on her desk. She had never seen a black rose before; did not even know those existed in natural surroundings. With care she pulled out the latch from the envelope which was not even sealed.

“Okay, Mister Wayne, let’s see what kind of game you’re up to."

Inside was one single laminated entrance card for the 55th  annual Viennese Opera Ball & Charity Gala in New York, on February 11th 2010\. With a sharp intake of breath, Pepper noticed it was not any kind of ticket; it belonged to the Diamond Tier table category with reservation prices starting way over 25,000 dollars.

“Oh my God.”

After several minutes of staring at the invitation in her hand, she noticed a small hand-written note lying on the floor next to her chair. It must have had slipped out of the envelope when she pulled out the ticket. Bending down Pepper snatched the paper and read the single sentence on it. No signature, no number, no reference to the Opera Ball ticket; nothing apart from his single, neatly handwritten sentence.

_The dining room is indeed a marvelous place for the Mirò. Thanks._

Pepper just shook her head.  
“You sure love to remain a mystery, don’t you Bruce?”  
All of a sudden she felt exposed; without really knowing why, or how.

Quick to fumble the ticket and the little note back into the envelope, she hid it at the very bottom of her latest black Hermès Birkin Bag; yet again a generous gift from the very Tony Stark for Christmas, almost four weeks ago. Pepper then got up to fetch a small vase. During the rest of the day, her glances often fell upon the exotic flower; her emotions in an inner turmoil.  
  
Even though she had sworn to herself on Tony’s doorstep not to repeat her previous mistake, the situation now seemed larger and harder to dodge. Without taking her upbringing and good manners into account, Pepper knew she no longer could act as if nothing has happened. Bruce Wayne had made his move and, very cleverly, placed the ball in her court.  
  
He most definitely had not been joking when he said he enjoyed a challenge. Pepper looked at her calendar. The opera ball took place on Thursday, less that two weeks away. Tapping the surface of her Stark Pad in a steady rhythm, she stared out of the window, lost in thought.

***

The indecision about how to get in contact with Bruce Wayne stayed with her for the next couple of days.  
  
No matter if she was out running across the beach in the morning, driving to or from work, or multitasking like a madwoman to comply with every ridiculous wish Tony uttered, the thought kept nagging at her. So far, she had not come up with a satisfying solution and felt more and more like a coward as the month progressed. Two days before the big event, fate decided to take matters out of her hands.  
  
“No! For heaven’s sake Tony, you will not – I repeat: _Not_ \- attend the amfAR New York Gala dressed as Iron Man, and that’s final!”

Pepper clutched the clipboard tighter to her chest and glared daggers at her boss’ back while he strutted around his workshop, wearing a pair of improved Iron Man gauntlets, and pretended to not be listening to her. High-pitched sounds of repulsor ignition powering up and down filled the air as he tested booting sequences.

“But _think_ about it, Pep! I mean, we’re talking an AIDS gala here. So, they have the red ribbon and I have the red suit. They're about protection, and I am -clearly- an expert on...” Pepper cut him off and pressed the heel of her hand onto her forehead in desperation. “Tony - no! Please… don’t even _go_ there!” His shit-eating grin got bigger than Pepper thought was humanly possible.  
  
“Protection… of mankind. _Maaaankind_. Gee Potts, get your mind out of the gutter, will ya?”

“Hilarious, Stark. A real riot. Why don’t _you_ get into Saturday Night Live? My veto still stands against the suit. Otherwise, I’m not planning this for you as of now – your choice.” Fiddling with some kind of electrostatic lenses, Tony huffed and turned his back on her again. “Pfft, you’re such a Debbie Downer. Make sure to not place us at Lady Gaga’s table though – she’s a nice girl, but her latest album gave me a headache.”

Paging through the sheets on her clipboard with a small smile, Pepper nodded and made a note. Then the true meaning of his sentence hit her.  
“… wait, what do you mean, 'us'? I sure am not coming with you to New York! Seriously, I have other things to do, I can't…”  
Tony twisted around to give her a look that alternated between utter disbelief and honest amusement.

“Nonsense, Pep. Where’d you get that? Course you’re coming along with Happy and me. End of discussion.”

Pepper closed her eyes in despair.  
  
The amfAR took place at Cipriani 42nd Street. Even more important, it took place Wednesday, February 10th; one day before the New York Viennese Opera Ball & Charity Gala. The possibility of running into Bruce Wayne at the most renowned hotels or restaurants of New York would almost be as large as Tony’s ego. Thinking back to the invitation still on the ground of her handbag, her neck and cheeks flushed red.

She left her boss to his tinkering and mechanically strode back into her office on the upper floor. There, she took several tries in formulating the acceptance RSVP on behalf of Tony to Natalie Jacobs, amfAR Coordinator, and requested three seats at a table away from Lady Gaga. Her meek attempt at trying to reach Bruce at his office in Gotham City failed; seeing the billionaire was already on his way to New York.

Since she had no other way of contacting him, Pepper had to live with her guilt-trip all the way to Big Apple.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some designer brand name dropping going on in this chapter. No, I don't get sponsored by any of them.  
> (I still wonder why not *ugly crying*)

On Wednesday morning, Tony managed to get in a fight with her about taking Mark V, 'The Football' as he had dubbed it, with him. Pepper hated seeing the particular suitcase dangling on Happy’s wrist again. One the one hand it painfully reminded her of the events unfolding in Monaco over six months ago, on the other hand, she still feared Tony would live up to his threat and don the suit on the red carpet that night.

Tony argued that, _especially_ after Monaco, he was not going anywhere without his armor, and that was that. During their short drive over to the private airfield where Stark’s Cessna Citation X awaited them, Happy Hogan stole some unobtrusive glances into the rear view mirror of the Rolls Royce, watching his boss and his assistant quarrel loudly on the back seat.

When they had reached a deadlock and stopped talking to each other for the rest of the travel time, it left Tony to sulk around in his seat and twiddle with his favorite nanoball, whilst Pepper busied herself behind a stack of newspapers and fashion magazines two rows in front. Happy tried to get conversations going with them for the first half an hour before he relented and retreated to the back of the plane.  
  
He plugged in his ear buds and took a nap, but not without muttering something about kids and adults that went unheard.

When the super mid-sized Bizliner landed safely after four hours, the glum three-people party checked in at the Four Season’s and parted ways for their respective suites, glad to be out of each other’s proximity for the moment. They had several more hours to kill before the gala started, and Pepper made use of the hotel’s gym to release her pent-up frustration.

After her workout and a long hot tub session, she felt ready to opt for a ceasefire and got dressed. She slipped into her new Badgley Mischka gown with its high but decent slit on the left side and some decent ruffles on the right shoulder. Combined with a pair of black Jimmy Choo’s lace peep toes, which ironically turned out to be Tony’s favorites, Pepper left her hair open with sleek, side-swept bangs.  
  
After she had put on some respective make-up and fit all necessary items for the evening into a delicate Marchesa clutch, she gave her reflection a final scrutinizing glance before she walked over to Tony’s suite. Happy answered the door after a few moments and let her in. He gave a small whistle at her appearance, to which Pepper blushed and slapped his arm in passing.

“You guys ready?”  
Happy nodded as he tugged at his too stiff collar and walked over to retrieve his driver’s cap and car keys.  
“I’m getting the Royce; meet you two downstairs in about five, okay?”

He then indicated with his head towards the other room of the suite and made a vague gesture with his hand regarding their boss’ current mood. Thanking him, Pepper nodded in return and waited until she heard the door close behind him. The Premium Park-View Executive Suite seemed quiet and empty, and Tony Stark was still nowhere in sight. Sometimes he was nothing but a man-child, Pepper silently groused.

“Tony?”

Her voice echoed through the vast suite as she meandered through the spacious loft and her fingers trailed along the backrest of the polished black leather couch where she placed her clutch for time being. Pepper came to a halt at the window and peeked down at Central Park, not seeing much except for darkness and the occasional lanterns stringing their way through the park area.

“Here. Can you give me a hand with this?”

At the sound of his voice, she turned around and saw him strolling out of the changing area, fumbling unsuccessfully with his bow-tie. Pepper marveled at his dashing appearance in his latest tailor-made, satin cotton black suit with matching shirt underneath which she had packed for him. The troublesome item then caught her attention in an instant, because it accurately matched the color of her gown.

“Sure, come here.”

She almost forgot her previous anger at the little gesture, which was as close to getting an apology from Tony Stark as possible. Meeting him halfway, Pepper wondered how he had coaxed Jarvis into telling him the color of her gown, while her nimble fingers began to twist the small silken item around his neck. The inviting smell of his cologne wavered over to her, and she took a few resolute sniffs to focus on the task at hand.

“Right suit for tonight?”  
  
Pepper's blue eyes looked up. At close range, his large brown eyes seemed like molten chocolate as he regarded her with interest. He wanted nothing but to test her reaction, as the corners of Tony's mouth already curved upwards into an impish smile. “… and boy, you look fantastic, Potts.” Pepper smirked at his deliberate, flirtatious tone and lightly patted his chest.  
  
“Why, the same goes for you, Mister Stark. There - all done.”

She took a few steps back, grabbed her clutch from the couch and mustered her final result. Tony spread his arms out wide before he puffed out his chest and struck a modelesque pose. With a roll of her eyes, Pepper marched onward and pulled him along by his sleeve.

“Let’s go, dandy man. Happy’s already waiting outside."

***

Without any bigger complications, they made their way over to the Cipriani and its respective red carpet.  
  
There, people and press alike screamed Tony’s name as if he were a superstar, and Pepper stepped aside to watch the spectacle unobtrusively from a safe spot nearby. She noticed how the seamless switch from Tony’s private persona to Tony’s Iron Man alter ego took place in less than five seconds. She had to give him credit for that; he was not called a genius for nothing.

Tony clearly enjoyed milking it for the paparazzi on end, and Pepper smiled indulgently as Happy joined her after a few moments. Together, they grinned at their boss’ magnificent one-man-show. Stark assumed some megalomaniac 'Iron Man fighting stance' poses by request, signed autographs and even gave short interviews about how it felt being a superhero.  
  
At Pepper's tap to her wrist, Happy eventually intervened and managed to see his boss through the crowd like a pro.

Once they were safely inside and had gotten escorted to their table, the gala was about to begin. When the lights got dimmed Pepper glanced around and inspected the posh interior; feeling the buzz and anticipation of the event about to happen, and finally wound down enough to relax and enjoy the show. Small commotion at the side entrance then got her attention.

None other than Bruce Wayne had entered the Cipriani, dressed in an immaculate black tuxedo with matching bow-tie.

He was accompanied by a beautiful young, blonde woman, and made his way over to a table four rows angled in front of them. Pepper’s heartbeat quickened, but she fought the urge to duck underneath the table. As if on cue, Wayne then turned around and stared straight into her direction whilst he adjusted the chair for the well-known model next to him.  
  
Pepper did not vanish into thin air, despite her fervent wishes, and gave him a small nod and smile instead; almost too easy to miss.

Bruce's countenance remained stoic and unreadable, and after a split second he had turned around again and got seated without so much of an acknowledgment. Next to her, and completely oblivious to her inner torment, Tony kept on nudging her with his elbow. With a start, Pepper snapped out of her reverie and gave him a wide-eyed look.  
  
Her frantic movement almost caused the empty wine glass next to her to tip over, but she caught it the very last second. “Whoa there, relax. Just wanted to know if you liked some?” Tony pointed to the water bottle in his hand. “What? Oh yes, sure.” Pepper made a beeline for it as soon as he was done, and downed the contents in one gulp, only to erupt in a huge coughing fit immediately after.  
  
Tony looked over at Happy while he patted her back with affection.  
“Easy, easy now, hold your horses! There’s more of where this noble acqua minerale came from, ya know?”  
She glowered at his amused countenance from behind her napkin; daring him to make another stupid comment.  
  
With a smirk, the billionaire removed his hand and raised it in mock surrender. When warm welcoming applause introduced Stanley Tucci, who opened the evening, the three of them turned their attention back to the stage. They watched the actor introducing amfAR Chairman Kenneth Cole, who in turn thanked the event’s generous supporters and spoke passionately about amfAR’s tireless efforts to find a cure for AIDS.  
  
“In this context, we’d especially like to thank Mister Bruce Wayne for his honorable and continuous efforts with Wayne Medical and Wayne Biotech. Both subsidiaries made such ground-breaking progress regarding cancer and AIDS treatment over the last two years, and have helped to save and prolong the lives of many affected patients all over the country!”

The ballroom erupted in a round of polite applause, and Pepper stole some furtive glances at the man in question who accepted the praise without so much as batting an eyelid. To her right, Tony was one of the first people to stop his slow, uninterested clapping. Instead, he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms in front of his chest as mild annoyance flitted across his handsome features.

Pepper took one glance at his saccharine poker face and sighed to herself. She had tried to tell him after all. On stage, Kenneth Cole continued with sincere enthusiasm as he swept his outstretched arm into the direction of Bruce’s table. “It goes without saying that Mister Wayne’s more than generous donations also have helped to raise a fantastic total of $1.2 million tonight, ladies and gentlemen!”

Fresh applause resounded through the hall, longer and more intense than before. Bruce Wayne remained both unfazed and seated, almost embarrassed. Pepper thought about if things were different and Tony had been receiving the praise, he would have been on the stage by now, front and center, unashamedly basking in the glory of attention. It made her steal another glance at her boss.

She saw him unceremoniously roll his eyes before he bent over to where Happy sat on his left and motioned for him to lean in. The billionaire then whispered a few words which caused his chauffeur and bodyguard of many years to snort out loud with laughter. When she felt the eyes of the people around on her, Pepper inconspicuously pinched Tony’s thigh; the one that rested against hers underneath the table.  
  
Her warning look got her a gloriously fake-innocent expression in return, as he rubbed his trousered leg in sulky pain.

“Ouch! Hey - what?!”  
Pepper gave a stern shake of her head and leaned sideways to whisper at him.  
“Shush! You know 'what' – stop it; people are watching us.”

Wordless, Tony reached for his champagne and downed the glass in one gulp. With a smile that bordered nothing short of disobedience, he leaned back in his chair. Pepper exchanged a look with Happy over the table. The bodyguard responded with a small shrug in return, indicating he was not taking sides. The personal assistant could not help but to shake her head in the semi-darkness of the room.

They were worse than kindergarten.

 


	10. Chapter 10

During the first half of the gala, with its award presentations and musical performances, Pepper’s attention was torn.

Bruce Wayne ignored her presence, which baffled and relieved her at the same time, while a bored Tony Stark had started his own pre-party and switched from champagne to scotch before dinner. Several attempts to persuade him into going slow were semi-successful, and resulted in the sad realization his booze tolerance was higher than most people’s.

His assistant at least tried to get him to eat most of what was in the bread basket.

At 8:30, the official gala program took a break, and nearly all of the seven hundred guests got up and stretched their legs before the first gala dinner course got served. Pepper excused herself as well and went off to the restrooms near the stage. The ladies' room was crowded as expected, but she managed to squeeze past some well-known faces from the entertainment industry and politely nodded her greetings.  
  
Afterward, she decided to get some fresh air outside on the terrace in the non-smoking section. At a vacant spot in the back of the veranda, Pepper placed her clutch aside on the massive stone balustrade. She leaned over to glance out into the night and blocked out the hustle and bustle from behind for a moment.  
  
“This means no then, I guess?”  
  
Pepper spun around at the unexpected male voice to her right and grabbed the balustrade to steady herself. Bruce Wayne stood next to her, with both hands in his pockets, an odd smile on his lips, and a non-readable expression in his eyes.  
  
“Bruce! I… no, I mean... Look, this is...” Angry at her stammering she collected her thoughts and tried again. “I’m sorry for not responding to your invitation. I’m very flattered that you’ve considered me to accompany you tomorrow, but I’m afraid I… I can’t.” She dropped her eyes to the floor and looked sideways to avoid his piercing stare. Bruce leaned against the lithic balustrade and gazed out into the darkness.  
  
“Your boss. You’re afraid he is going to find out. That’s understandable of course.”  
Pepper gave a crestfallen laugh and looked back up into his face.  
“Oh, he’d find out alright, no worries. I just want to spare you the ugly consequences that would follow his discovery.”  
  
When Bruce Wayne had to laugh out loud in honest surprise, it was a foreign, clear sound. Pepper realized it was the very fist time she had been subjected to it. Moreover, it also exposed two rows of symmetrical, white teeth. “Now _t_ _hat’s_ something I’d love to see.” He got serious in an instant. With one hand on the lithic balustrade, Bruce tilted his head closer until his face was only several inches from hers.  
  
“I’m not afraid of Tony Stark, Pepper.”

Her eyes roamed around his close-up, even features, searched for a hint of merriment but found none. She swallowed and pressed her fingernails into her palms until they hurt. “Yes… well - I don’t want it to come this far, Bruce, I really don’t. Maybe...” Before she could finish her sentence, she saw a familiar outline pushing through the crowd. Happy Hogan had just stepped out on the patio.  
  
He seemed to be looking around and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of her and Bruce Wayne talking in the corner of the terrace. Pepper's cheeks started to blush full crimson, and she grabbed her clutch from the balustrade. Her focus was on meeting Happy halfway, before he could and would make his way over to them. Bruce then placed a gentle, warm hand on her bare shoulder, and a small shiver ran through her body all the way down.  
  
“This isn’t over yet Pepper; let’s talk about this later on.”  
  
With cold eyes boring into hers, Wayne gave an unemotional smile before he sauntered away. He casually passed the stockier man without so much of a second glance, even as the chauffeur, in turn, shot him a dark look that went unnoticed. When she reached her longtime colleague and friend, Happy incredulously pointed his thumb at the retreating broad back of the Gotham City billionaire.

“Pepper… what the hell was that?”  
She shook her head and pulled at the lapel of his jacket to drag him back into the ballroom.  
“Not now Happy. Please.”

He obediently followed her after he freed himself from her vice-like grip; shrugging his shoulders and straightening his jacket.  
“Damn Peps, if Tony had seen this we’d have our hands full with him, you know?”  
The redhead stopped in her tracks and swung around. Happy nearly bumped into her.

“Heck, Happy I know, okay?! But Tony hasn’t and that’s that.”

Pepper’s blue eyes blazed at him with vigor, until he gulped and eventually nodded. The two of them made their way back to their table with grim faces, only to find Tony surrounded by a spellbound audience of five young starlets and models. They were not only sitting on Pepper’s and Happy’s seats but, much to Pepper’s annoyance, one of them had even gotten comfortable in Tony’s lap.

With disdain, she realized that Bruce Wayne’s company, a young gorgeous Victoria’s Secret model on the rise, was also amongst the silicone pack. Her billionaire boss was in full playboy mode and completely ignorant of his employees’ discomfort. Tony then made another grand gesture with a scotch tumbler in his left, elaborating wildly while his right hand was sneaked around the waist of the girl in his lap.

With her firmly in place, he droned out one of his womanizing platitudes that made Pepper wonder what happened to feminism, if women still fell for such drivel. The young woman giggled into the small of his neck, and the redhead fought the urge to walk up and smack both of them in the face. A warped kind of jealousy crept into her heart and fueled her fire at the current situation.

Thankful for small favors, Pepper noticed that it at least was not Bruce’s date who straddled Tony. With many years of mastering the professional, fake smile, the redhead went up to her chair and gripped the backrest with force. The young woman on it turned around and looked up at her in surprise. She probably was not much older than twenty-four.

“May I?”  
Irritated, the model complied and stood up. It made Tony aware of her and Happy’s return.  
“Hiya guys – where have you been? You’ve missed an awesome story here.”

The billionaire pointed to the woman in his lap, as she gave another annoying high-pitched, silly laugh in return and playfully slapped his arm. However, underneath Pepper’s withering stare she also rose from her position. Within twenty seconds the five ladies toddled off, giggling and blowing air kisses back at the superhero billionaire.

Pepper threw a glance at Happy over Tony’s head and narrowed her eyes when she caught him staring after the short-skirted squad as well. Embarrassed, the bodyguard cleared his throat and was eager to hear the story Tony wanted to share. A seething personal assistant busied herself with studying the table's menu card and ignored them both during dinner.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Later that evening, after Lady Gaga’s special performance and a live auction that brought fantastic results, the formal part of the evening was over and the after show party started. The atmosphere at the table of Pepper, Tony and Happy remained frosty, even as the people around them started to get up and dance when the band began to play.

From the corner of her eyes, Pepper noticed Bruce getting up from his respective table as well and whispering something into his company’s ear. She witnessed how the young model shook her head and tried to get him to stay by holding onto his sleeve. Undeterred, Wayne politely detached himself and made his way through the ballroom, heading into their direction with slow, steady strides.

Pepper’s heartbeat increased and she reached out for her clutch. For the second time that night, she wanted to become invisible and stared down into her lap. Her silent prayers he would just pass them remained futile, as Bruce Wayne stopped in front of their table and faced the trio with a vague smile. “Good evening. Mister Stark; about time we meet in person.” His tone was friendly but non-committal as he extended a hand.  
  
Tony remained seated and played with the rim of his glass before he cast an annoyed glance upwards.  
“Eh, I dunno. The evening went pretty well without so far.”  
Pepper fought the urge to elbow him for his rude behavior right there and then as the heat crept up her neck and cheeks.  
  
“Mister Stark…” she began in a low, warning tone, but Bruce’s nonchalance never wavered. He put his hand down and slid it into the pocket of his trousers. “Oh, never mind Miss Potts. I didn’t come here for friendly small talk anyways.” His smile then took on a lethal edge. “You see, my company already got familiar with your employer earlier on, so I figured the same should apply vice versa, too.”

In a quick motion, Bruce extended his right hand out to her and indicated a courteous bow.  
“May I ask for this dance?”  
Blood rushed in her ears as Pepper remained frozen to the spot and stared at him in shock.

The sound of something being slammed down on the table brought her out of her stunned condition. She realized that Tony had shot up from his seat like a lightning bolt, despite his intoxicated state of mind. He leaned forward on both hands with open hostility. “How ‘bout 'no', punk? Seriously pal, get lost, or else...” Something in the young woman then snapped.  
  
From her anger towards Tony for being a rude bastard while flirting with whatever skirt crossed his way, over to the endless times she had to hold back and be considerate for him. All but seeing red, she gave in to her initial reaction, rose from her chair and nearly slammed her clutch on the table before she reached out for Bruce’s hand.

“Why Mister Wayne, I’d love to.”

She ignored the little gasp from Happy, as well as the tremors in her legs and stepped up towards him; forcing herself to a self-assured smile at Bruce’s pleasantly surprised expression. From the look he gave her, he had not fully anticipated her to accept his invitation either but glossed it over with professional charm.

“Pepper…”

Even without looking back she could feel Tony’s seething rage; could feel it oozing from the way he pronounced each syllable of her name. She turned around to find him still leaning on the table like an animal on the prowl, dark eyes gleaming dangerously whilst he was grinding his jaw. Happy had grabbed his left arm in a precautionary hold; almost as if trying to prevent his boss from lunging out towards Wayne over the table.

“It’s just one dance, Mister Stark. I'm sure you’ll get over my absence for a couple of minutes.”

With those cool words, Pepper allowed Bruce to lead her over to the dance floor; trying not to let her anxiety overwhelm her. She did not falter, and in one smooth motion, Bruce Wayne had swayed her into the rhythm of a Waltz. Together they found their pacing in midst of several other pairs with ease. She caught a glimpse back at their table and saw how Happy leaned over and whispered something in Tony’s ear.  
  
The realization he had just sold her out on the incident earlier on the terrace hit her, and how she might have flushed ten years of friendship down the drain. Pepper morbidly started to wonder whether she should get used to job hunting sometime soon. “That’s not quite how I planned it, but here we are. I really wanted to save this dance for tomorrow evening.”  
  
Her eyes shot up at the sound of Bruce’s voice and darted across his features. She had been focused on the buttons of his shirt, lost in thought. “Yes, here we are. For the first and last time, though; one of us most probably won’t survive the night.” She laughed mirthlessly at her own comment which, despite sounding like a lame joke, held a hint of frightening truth to it.  
  
Bruce squeezed her hand and gave her a reassuring smile. “I'm sure once morning hits he won’t be able to remember anything from tonight anyhow.” The billionaire had kept an eye on Stark’s table, and spun his dancing partner around in an elegant turn to allow her to check for herself. Pepper saw how Tony sat slouching in his chair as he glowered at the dance floor and downed his scotch like water.  
  
Her heart started to ache, and she shut her eyes. Bruce regarded her internal struggle but was polite enough to give her a moment. When she exhaled and blinked, sadness was evident in her eyes and smile. “Oh, you don’t know Tony Stark yet. I’ve already pushed my luck too far tonight.” Not knowing what to reply, Bruce nodded and refrained from asking her about the opera ball.  
  
Instead, he did his best to get her to enjoy their dance and, for a small part, even succeeded as they both possessed impeccable ballroom dance qualities. When the band faded out ten minutes later, Bruce led her off the dance floor by her hand, but at a respectable distance. Shocked Pepper had to realize her table was empty; Happy and Tony gone without a trace.

She released Bruce’s hand and pressed forward, bumping against people who crowded the rows between the banquet tables. Her clutch still lay where she had left it, and Pepper grasped it with a sickening feeling in her stomach. When everything was still inside, she fished out her Stark phone and pressed the speed dial button. Bruce had caught up with her and looked around as well, scanning the perimeter but coming up empty.

“Maybe they went to the restroom. I can go and check if you want me to?” She shook her head as she pressed the phone against her ear to drown out the commotion all around. Her call went straight to Tony’s voicemail and she hung up, frustrated. “ _Very_ bad idea. No, I'm going over to the entrance area, maybe someone from valet parking knows something.”

A true gentleman, Bruce stayed by her side and they reached the front area of the ballroom after a couple of minutes.  
  
There, the crowd had thinned considerably; a few guests passed them by, either going for a smoke in the designed areas or going to the restrooms. Pepper almost breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted Tony Stark’s Rolls Royce parking downstairs in front of the Cipriani. She swung around to where Bruce stood several meters behind her and mustered the luxury Phantom type with mild interest.  
  
With an apologetic smile, she held up her hand as if to stop him from following her further. “I think it’s better if we go separate ways now, Bruce. I will…” His face then creased in a frown as his eyes focused on something behind her; so Pepper follow his glance. She was just in time to see Tony exiting the Royce, drunk-stumbling against the door as he held it open, and two slender legs in high heels poked out.  
  
They belonged to Bruce’s female company from the evening, and Pepper felt numb to the bone.

Every sound and every detail around her vanished into nothingness as she stood, frozen in place, and watched how the young, intoxicated woman sloppily pulled down her dress from where it was hiked all way up her thighs. The model wobbly rose from the passenger’s seat to tug at Tony’s half-opened belt with a lustful leer, and motioned for him to get back into the car.  
  
He shared a deep kiss with her before fumbling his pockets for a hundred dollar bill he all but threw at the young valet parker who hovered around the luxury limousine. Pepper’s and Tony’s eyes met just then, and they stared at each other separated by the concrete steps of the Cipriani, motionless. After a couple of seconds that seemed like an eternity, a malicious snarl appeared on his lips.  
  
With a dramatic bow at his stupefied assistant and a grope to the backside of his chosen companion for the night, the two of them got back into the car. The Royce ignited soon after, to speed off into the night. Pepper stood outside the exclusive party venue in the blistering cold night of New York, oblivious to her skin growing cold, and stared after the disappearing car.

Bruce Wayne had witnessed the scene without any outward reaction. Once the limousine was out of sight, he shrugged off his jacket and moved over to gently wrap it around the pale, goose-bumped shoulders of the redhead. Entranced, Pepper grasped the lapels and pulled them together, a feeling of utter shame and humiliation spreading out from inside of her.

“I should have known this would end in disaster.” Her mumblings made Bruce lean in to understand what she was saying. Tentatively, he put an arm around her small frame; not forcing but offering comfort. “No, if anything, I take full responsibility for what has happened.” When she did not pull away, he led her over to where they stood more secluded from the icy winter wind and signaled for the valet driver to bring his car around.

“Let me give you a ride, anywhere you want to go.”  
She humorlessly laughed whilst adjusting her clutch underneath his jacket.  
“The Four Season’s not far from here; I might be just in time to see your model friend out.”

Bruce saw desperation brimming in her eyes and lightly stroked a covered upper arm.  
“I would rather not have you going back there tonight, Pepper.”  
With an aggressive roar, a dark gray Lamborghini Murciélago got driven up by a valet boy.

Bruce Wayne gave Pepper’s shoulder a final squeeze.  
“I’m at the Ritz-Carlton, about a mile from here. They’ll be able to have another suite ready for you for tonight’s accommodation.”  
With a tired sigh, that came out half a sob, she leaned against the concrete pillar next to her.

Incoherent scenarios ran through her head; the most ridiculous one being Tony blasting through Bruce’s room in his Iron Man suit after finding out she had not returned during the night. Eventually, though, Pepper sniffed resolutely against the cold, as well as the lump of frustration in her throat, and blinked up into Bruce’s waiting countenance.

“Regarding the slim chances of finding another vacant hotel room during New York’s party marathon tonight… I guess I’d kindly take you up on your offer.” Bruce nodded and guided her down the stairs, before he helped her get into his Italian sports car with its vertically rotating scissor doors. Once inside the leather-scented luxury car, Pepper leaned back against the headrest and closed her eyes.  
  
A thought then struck her mind and she snapped back into wide awareness. “Oh, my entire luggage is still at the Four Seasons. I have nothing but this.” She plucked at her dress, angry at her atypical bout of short-sightedness. Looking over, she studied the sharp profile of her male companion. “Maybe I should just fess up and go back, Bruce.”  
  
Wayne put the sports car in parking gear at a red light, and the V12 engine continued to vibrate in powerful hues underneath them. “Like I said, Pepper: I’ll get you to wherever you want to go, but” He gave her a sideways glance full of insistence whilst tapping the automatic gear-shift in a steady rhythm. “I want you to give your boss a call first before I can safely drop you off. Okay?”

The traffic lights turned green, and the billionaire switched gears and tipped the accelerator, causing the Lamborghini to purr with barely contained force. Without overrunning the cabs and cars in front of them, he drove down Lexington Avenue. Pepper nodded, opened her clutch and fished out her Stark phone to again speed dial the number in question.

_'Hi, apparently I cannot answer the phone right now, leave a message if you must. I probably won’t call you back, though.'_

His scornful voice-mail seemed to be mocking her even more than usual, and Pepper thumbed the small phone shut with a resolute motion. She looked over at Bruce, and mutual understanding passed between them as he turned left at E 59th Street and the silhouette of the Ritz Carlton appeared within the distance. Once inside, Bruce guided her into his Premium Parkview Suite on the 20th floor and spoke with Alfred.  
  
Within ten minutes, Pepper was able to move into an adjacent, 465 square foot bedroom with separate bathroom facilities. Still clad in her evening dress and feeling forlorn, Pepper plopped down on the spacious bed and stared out into the night. When Bruce had asked her for her Four Season’s key card down at the foyer, she had complied with a questioning look.  
  
His meaningful smile, and the fact that her luggage got delivered twenty minutes later, spoke volumes. Bruce Wayne was a man of action: Fast, efficient and elaborate. A polite knock on the door that separated their respective rooms then shook Pepper out of her brooding. After she called her permission to enter, Bruce opened the door but remained standing in its doorway and inspected the room. Eventually, his eyes rested on her.

“I’m sorry this isn’t more comfortable, but it was the best the hotel was able to come up with at short notice.” Pepper stood up, shook her head and unsuccessfully brushed her hands over the wrinkles in her lap a couple of times. “God no, it’s more than fine. I’m just… just tired I guess. Thank you again for all of your kind help, Bruce. I don’t know how I can make it up to you.”

It was his turn to shake his head as his hands came up and started removing the expensive silver cuff links before he casually spoke up.  
“I’m looking forward to eating breakfast with you tomorrow morning. Until then, have a good night and sleep well.”  
After he had closed and locked the door behind him, Pepper was left alone with her thoughts.

She pulled her toilet bag from the bottom of her suitcase, went into the bathroom to remove her makeup and brush her teeth. Sleep eluded her for the upcoming two hours until she caved in and let the tears run free.  
  



	12. Chapter 12

The next morning at 9, Happy Hogan stood in front of room 250, belonging to Pepper Potts, and wiped sweated palms against his pants.  
  
He was not a man of many words; an invaluable character trait which had kept him out of trouble and in his current job position for the last twenty-something years. Usually, Happy did everything to keep it that way. The incident from the previous night, however, made him feel bad about ratting Pepper out as it had made things even worse than they had been.

Happy knew about Pepper’s hidden feelings towards Tony; had known once he realized that he himself did not stand a chance with her. The big man also knew about Tony’s internal struggle between unspoken possessiveness and non-commitment when it came to his assistant. Still, Hogan had never tried to play matchmaker or, even worse, had gotten between the lines, until now.  
  
That was why he felt the need to apologize for his foolhardy actions, and to offer Pepper his help in order to figure out the mess at hand.

The bodyguard softly knocked two times, then again. With his ear pressed to the door, Happy strained to hear over the sounds of the vacuum-cleaning down the corridor. Nothing within the room moved. As the cleaning crew started to muster him with suspicion, he strolled away with a low whistle on his lips and rapped on the door next to Pepper’s instead, hoping to have more luck.

A thud, a muffled curse and four seconds later, a pale Tony Stark opened the door. He looked freshly showered, but unshaven, wore casual denim jeans and hoodie combo and hid tired eyes behind a pair of bluish tinted glasses. The scowl on his face deepened when he saw who his guest was. Then Tony’s mouth curved into a lopsided grimace.

“You’re _not_ Pepper.”  
Happy shot him an exasperated glance and crossed meaty arms in front of his chest.  
“Apparently not, nope. What’s wrong, boss?”

With disdain, Tony glanced into the room before he turned narrowed eyes back on his bodyguard. “That girl… is still here. Refuses to go. Heck, she even _bawled_ at me a couple of hours earlier! I spent most of the night listening to her…” The sound of someone retching reached their ears, and Tony’s mouth wrinkled in disgust. “Yeah, pretty much that. I need Pepper to get her out of here. Immediately.”

Happy had to bite down on his lip to prevent himself from grinning like a fool. If Pepper found it equally amusing, things would turn out alright.

“I just tried her door but she doesn’t open up. Maybe she already left for breakfast?”  
He looked at his watch while Tony shifted from one foot to another.  
“Don’t care - I’m so done playing babysitter, Hap. You get her out of my sight then. C’mon.”

Tony opened the door further and dragged his long-time friend inside. Happy stumbled into the plush suite and glowered at his employer’s retreating back. “Hey! Wait up, boss. What do I tell her? What if she screams, or starts to hit me? Heck, do you even know her name?” The billionaire stopped before reaching the living room area and had the decency to look pensive.

”Something stupid that sounded an awful lot like sweets… 'Candies' maybe? Who cares Hapster, you’re my bodyguard, and as that I want you to guard my body. Now!” After Tony had closed the sliding doors to the living room behind him, Happy muttered something about a rise before he poked his head into the bedroom with its bath en suite.  
  
He complied with Stark’s wish and guided a frazzled, hung-over model out of the apartment and towards the elevators five minutes later.

When the door had slammed shut, and the voices of Happy and the whimpering girl faded away, Tony got up from where he had moped around on a recliner and went up to check on his assistant himself. He achieved the same reaction as his bodyguard and decided to give reception a call, to inquire about the whereabouts of the guest from room 250. As soon as Happy came back, he found his boss pacing the suite.

“She’s gone, Hap. Pepper checked out of her room last night. All of her stuff is gone!” Mouth a grim line, Tony stopped in the middle of his living room and looked at his speechless chauffeur in equal perplexity. Then a thought crossed his mind, and Tony jumped over the recliner to fetch his Stark pad from the night stand. His nimble fingers flew across the surface until a familiar voice greeted him.

“Good morning Mister Stark. How may I be of assistance?”

“Jarvis, locate Pepper’s phone. Radius: Manhattan, New York and surrounding areas.”

***

At the luxurious Ritz Carlton several blocks away, Pepper Potts had just finished an hourly workout at the hotel’s fitness club and stepped out of the shower. Even though she had not slept more than five hours straight, she felt relaxed and human again, except for her growling stomach. At the prospect of eating breakfast with Bruce soon, she slipped into a pair of black opaque tights, a slim fit tweed dress, and a pair of knee-length suede boots.

All done, she stepped back out into the master bedroom, only to find a huge trolley-table full of breakfast had been delivered. An envelope rested atop the breadbasket, next to a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Curious, the redhead sunk into the chair next to the table and took the blank envelope in her hands. She unfolded the sheet of paper, and another New York opera ball ticket tumbled into her lap.  
  
Her eyes remained glued to the handwritten letter at first.

_Dear Pepper,_

_I hope you had a comfortable night, despite everything._

_Receiving this letter means I’m not in New York anymore. Some troublesome matters forced me to leave without being able to say goodbye. As a small means of my apologies, please accept my ticket for the ball tonight; I’m sure you’ll be able to put it to good use._

_Take care,  
B._

  
Pepper wiped her forehead and stared at the rich selection of toast, marmalade, coffee, juice and fresh fruit. Hunger then kicked in and made her start eating. Twenty minutes later, when her initial appetite was satisfied and her brain functioned normally again, she re-read Bruce’s letter, took out her phone and got in touch with Marcie Rudell, executive director of the Opera Ball.  
  
She spoke pleasant words with the elder woman before she donated the two top tickets to a lesser fortunate party; on behalf of Mister Bruce Wayne. In turn, Pepper made sure the Opera committee would release a public statement to thank Wayne Enterprises for their generous charity gesture. Putting both tickets into the envelope and sealed it tight, Pepper phoned reception.  
  
The requested page boy to collect and deliver her small cargo as soon as possible was at her door in less than three minutes. When she was about to fold Bruce’s personal letter in half, she saw it. It was a different handwriting than Bruce’s; smaller but also quite distinguished, consisting only of a string of digits. The area code 735, however, indicated a Gotham City line.

“Thank you, Alfred. This might indeed come in handy sometime…”

Another knock on her door woke Pepper from her thoughts, and she was quick to stuff the folded letter into her purse. She suspected the boy had forgotten something and went to open the door. Outside stood none other than Tony Stark, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans and regarded her with an unreadable look on his face.

“Hey. Can I… can I come in?”  
Pepper took a deep breath and clasped the door tight. He sniffed once, shuffled, and stared at his feet, uncertain.  
“Could I stop you?”

At the bitter tone of her voice, his eyes shot up and searched for hers. Pepper avoided them but nonetheless stepped aside to let him pass. She walked up to the window sill and gazed out at the hazy gray Friday morning that mapped out upon Central Park. Behind her, she heard Tony close the door and start to clear his throat multiple times as if trying to find the right words. It irritated her, so she spoke up; tone harsher than intended.

“What do you want, Tony?”  
The billionaire stared at her back and took off his glasses to pocket them within his leather jacket.  
His vicious hangover threatened him from behind his temples, and he took a second to massage them.

“Pep, I… fucked up last night, okay? Badly.”  
At that, she gave a brusque laugh, but still refused to face him.  
“Yeah, for once I cannot help but to agree with you.”

Pepper crossed her arms in front of her chest and listened to his footsteps move around the room. The bottles within the mini bar rattled as Tony took a seltzer out gulped its contents down. “Do you have any idea how I felt when they told me you checked out at the Four Season’s?” The voice that wavered over to her sounded small, almost helpless. She briefly closed her eyes as emotions started to war within her.  
  
“Maybe the same way I felt last night when you left me standing in front of the Cipriani for this little, short-skirted…” Pepper forced herself to pause; her voice was becoming too shrill, too involved and too jealous, all of which she had no right to be. “I didn’t sleep with her Pepper. I just want you to know that.” Blood rushed in her ears. With both hands on the window sill, Pepper hung her head low.  
  
“You can do whatever you want, Tony.”

She was proud how perfectly indifferent she managed to sound. Tony moved closer until a few inches separated him from touching her shoulder. He regarded her profile as if gauging whether to expect a harsh reaction. When none came, he placed his left hand atop her right.

“What I want is for you to come back with me, Pep. I wanna go home.”

Pepper Potts looked down to where his large palm covered hers and felt her reserve crumble to pieces. She straightened her back and faced her long-time boss, friend, and the only person she had in her life. Looked at his tired countenance for the first time since the previous night, and nodded slowly.

“Okay. Let’s go home.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

Malibu, February 2010  


Nine days after leaving New York behind, Pepper Potts sat on her roof deck Saturday morning, ate a late breakfast and studied the newspaper.   
  
She and Tony had not spoken about the incident at the gala again, whether for better or for worse Pepper did not know. She had wisely kept any mention of Bruce Wayne to herself, and tried to approach Tony with the same open-mindedness which had earned her his trust almost ten years ago. Mistakes had been made, on both sides, but they had dodged heavier bullets in the past.

A good distraction proved to be the latest Stark Industries project; the completion of Stark Tower in New York City.

Recently constructed by Tony Stark himself, the high-rise building was powered by its own, independent arc reactor and capable of sustaining it for a year without any costs to the city. Pepper loved the sleek design of the 93-story tower, and still marveled at the fact that her boss most likely had banged out the design on one of his semi-sober workshop all-nighters, after the destruction of Stark Expo in Flushing Meadows.

She had gladly taken it upon her duties to supervise the final stages of the completion, and had started to switch working places between Malibu and New York ever so often. Tony never complained about her absence, and Pepper jokingly declared he had finally learned to tie his shoes alone after all. However, since getting involved with S.H.I.E.L.D. several months ago, he had become a mystery-monger

Pepper was not convinced this was for his own good, or for her own sanity as well.   
  
She had heard bits and pieces about a so-called “Avengers Initiative”, a “Project Pegasus” and decided she did not like it one bit. After she had spotted Nathalie Rushman around, in the company of a tall dark guy wearing an eye patch, Pepper was left to believe the woman’s ulterior motive had not primarily included to become the babysitter of a certain billionaire playboy back in the days.

Of course Tony never bothered to explain any of it, teasing her instead to not be jealous as the privilege of being his PA was hers alone.

For the most part, he would continue to tinker in his workshop, even though that was not enough to add to Pepper’s recent confusion. What did concern her were those incoming calls with blocked numbers, requesting Mister Stark on the phone, as well as manye mysterious files and packages being delivered to his Malibu home address.   
  
Together with a withdrawn Tony Stark who now skipped business appointments in favor of meeting shady men in shady uniforms somewhere at shady warehouses these days, it was bound to become a sure recipe for disaster sooner or later. Pepper pushed those unpleasant thoughts from her mind and picked up the last piece of pineapple from her plate. Mouth full she leaned back in her comfortable deck chair and put her feet up.   
  
She could hear the waves of the ocean rolling onto the shore, seagulls in the air, and distant voices of people enjoying a day at the beach. With a flip, she then turned the L.A. Times over to the last page where she had left off. While she browsed through lesser important articles with little to no interest, something caught her attention.

‘ **Major fire at Wayne Manor – did drunken billionaire Bruce Wayne really burn down his home?’**

With a huge frown, she sat up straighter and read the article underneath a blurry black and white picture.  

_Gotham City, 20 th  February 2010 _

_Last night a major fire wiped out most of what belonged to the Wayne family for several generations. The manor, which had been hosting Bruce Wayne’s 33 rd  _ _birthday party hours before, got burned down to the ground. Luckily no lives were lost on that fateful evening. The Gotham City Police Department does not want to go into detail about the fire inquest yet; “Up until this point, all rumors are simply wild shots.” Detective Gerard Stephens from GCPD declares. Since the estate's foundation survived intact for the most part, rebuilding efforts are already underway, according to a spokesman from Wayne Enterprises._

The redhead exhaled and sunk back into the couch.   
  
She did not believe the lurid headline for a second. With a sharp flick of her wrists, she folded the paper and placed it aside to reach for her phone. After toying with the small device for a few moments, she got up to walk inside and over to her book shelf. Nimble fingers pulled out a well-worn black book from underneath a huge pile of coffee-table books.   
  
In no time, she had thumbed through the pages of David Antin’s ‘Radical Coherency’ and took out the book marker that was Bruce’s letter from New York. Pepper then stepped back out on the roof deck, resumed her seat and emptied her coffee cup. A sliding motion brought her Stark phone to life, and she dialed the string of digits written on the paper.   
  
As she pondered if it might have been wiser to use her old phone again, the free-line signal came through and the thought vanished from her mind. After the fifth ring, Pepper almost was about to hang up when her call got redirected, but soon after, the line did get picked up.

“Hello?”  
A male voice, though definitely not Bruce’s.  
“Oh, hello. May I speak with Mister Bruce Wayne please?”

Pepper gnawed at her bottom lip and folded neat little dog-ears into the corners of the letter in her lap.  
Silence followed her question, before something rustled in the background.  
“This must be Miss Potts if I’m not mistaken?”

Now she was certain whom she was speaking with. Alfred’s voice sounded very different, and there seemed to be a strong reverberation wherever he was. “Yes, indeed it is. Good morning Alfred. I… well, you were so kind to pass this number on to me, and as I've read what happened I wanted to make sure nobody got hurt.” Her eyes fell back onto the article in the newspaper.   
  
More rustling and some background echoes came through the other end of the line. She figured it might not have been the wisest idea to call someone whose home just got burnt down a day ago, but then the butler spoke up. “That is very kind, Miss Potts. I am sure Master Wayne will appreciate hearing about your call.” Even if her face fell a little, Pepper did not let her voice show her disappointment.

“So Bru… Mister Wayne is not able to come to the phone?”

“I am afraid he is not, Miss Potts. I will of course let him know that you called.”  
His voice did not waver as well; at least for the untrained ear. Pepper nodded along.  
“… but… is he okay, Alfred? If there’s anything I can do then please tell me so.”

Not sure where that had come from, Pepper probed her heart and felt no regrets. A deep sigh on the other line confirmed her gut instinct. Alfred was more shaken then he would ever admit. “Master Wayne is… not well indeed, Madam. We are currently relocating to other premises and there is a lot to be done and organized.” He gave a little chuckle which reminded Pepper of her long gone grandfather.   
  
“But I do not want to bother you with tiresome details Miss Potts, excuse me.” Quick to assure him he was not, her fast-paced thinking offered to fly out to Gotham City for moral support. It was only a two-hour flight from New York, and nobody would question her trip because of her obligations to the Stark Tower project.   
  
As for her motivation, Pepper supposed she owed Bruce that much after what had happened at the amfAR gala. Even though it was a fresh, and not to mention very dangerous connection, she found Bruce Wayne to be a kindred spirit; one that she inexplicably connected with. If he had not tried to use her against Stark Industries when he had the chance, he probably would not be trying to do so at such a low point in his life.

Alfred’s voice did seem to sound a little merrier, and Pepper promised to take the next flight available. She politely refused to get picked up by Bruce’s private jet in L.A., and wanted to take a commercial flight to New York instead. From there, the butler insisted on getting a Wayne Enterprise corporate jet to take her to Gotham City and Bruce Wayne’s current residence.

The redhead figured she could live with that prospect and wished the elder butler well before hanging up. Pepper then started to rummage around in the very back of her closet for her unused weekender bag. Tony would not even notice her absence until Monday morning, and while she made sure to be available via phone the whole time, she did not specifically inform him of her modified weekend plans.

 


	14. Chapter 14

Gotham City, 20th  February 2010

  
The flight to New York was uneventful, and Pepper arrived in Gotham City at 6:45PM.   
  
She flipped up the collar of her Burberry trench coat to shield her from the harsh winds, as she stepped out onto the landing strip of what seemed to be a private airfield. A chauffeur was at her side in an instant, took her weekender and beckoned her over to a black limousine. During the thirty minute drive, she watched the dark scenery of Gotham City with its tall skyscrapers protruding high into the twilight with keen interest.   
  
The trip ended at a luxurious hotel in the city’s center, where the young woman got welcomed by Alfred in the foyer. He immediately took care of her luggage and escorted her towards the penthouse suite. When they stood side by side in the large elevator, Pepper cast the solemn butler a nervous look. “Does Mister Wayne know I’m coming?” He threw her a sad but affectionate glance.  
  
“Certainly, Miss Potts. It was the only thing that brightened his spirits today.”

With more confidence than she felt, Pepper returned a smile. As the elevator doors opened she released a small breath. They gave way to a spacious apartment complex with high ceilings and a panoramic view of the entire city. Pepper could not help but to inwardly compare it with Stark Tower. While she found it lacked personality she reprimanded herself; it was a secondary residence Bruce had to retreat to.   
  
She mustered the sleek interior design and turned her attention back to the butler when he stopped in his tracks. He indicated to her weekender in his hands and gave a small bow. “I will have the guest suite upstairs prepared for you, Madam. Master Wayne awaits you in the outdoor area. Have a nice evening.” Pepper thanked him, whispered one last request in his ear, and made her way further into the apartment.   
  
She entered the dimly lit living room area and let her eyes roam around. To her left, large glass panels were slid open wide to reveal a gigantic terrace, and distant sounds from the dark city below reverberated up to the penthouse. She crossed the room and stepped out on the balcony to find a brooding Bruce Wayne leaning against the glass balustrade.

His back was towards her, but it was the first time she saw him not dressed in a meticulous suit, but clad in a pair of dark jeans and a black turtleneck sweater. As Pepper lingered in the doorway, she was unsure how to proceed. She suspected he was already aware of her presence, but did not want to advance in on him. “Bruce…?”   
  
When he turned, she was shocked by how hollow and tired his eyes were. His usually clean-shaven face was framed by stubble, and an aura of agony surrounded him. “Pepper.” His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, and it was all the confirmation she needed. She let go of the door frame and went up to him, feeling the urge to give him a hug and assure herself he was still whole, was still there.   
  
She noticed he almost flinched at first contact, but caught himself and raised his arms to clasp her shoulders in a gentle way. When she pulled back, Pepper kept her hands on his forearms to prevent him from escaping her scrutiny. “I am so sorry for what happened. And at the same time glad you’re not hurt…” Her eyes darted across his face and torso. “….at least not from what I can see.”

Bruce gave a reassuring smile that failed to convince both of them at the same time. “And I am glad you’re here tonight; even though I can hardly believe my luck.” He seemed sincere despite his gloom and forced another smile on his face. At that, Pepper started to switch into her ‘handle-the-depressed-billionaire’ mode and grabbed his right arm.   
  
“And that’s why we’re working upon getting you to feel better now, Mister Wayne. I am a woman on a mission.” Too stunned and tired to protest, he allowed her to lead him over into the living room where Alfred had seen to her previous wish in form of a huge pizza delivery which stood steaming hot on the table. At Bruce’s amused look, Pepper gave a sly smile, distributed the first slices and motioned for him to have a seat.

“For starters I figured you hadn’t eaten properly today, and eating in seemed the most logical idea. Or does Bruce Wayne not eat pizza?”  
The billionaire sat down next to her, took the proffered plate without complaint and seemed grateful for her efforts at providing distraction.  
“Hm, he actually hadn’t had pizza in quite a long time. I’m surprised Alfred could comply with your wish.”

Most of the pizza was gone after half an hour, and they reclined into the large couch with full bellies. Despite the dramatic events from the previous day, Bruce heated up the fireplace in the corner, and they spent the rest of the evening between quiet conversation and staring out into the flames. Pepper's subliminal efforts to get him to open up about the incident, fell on deaf ears.   
  
Seeing Bruce's eyes turn hard, she switched tactics, steered clear of the topic he could not yet touch, and watched the looming shadows across his face disappear ever so slightly at the amusing little anecdotes she managed to dig out. Around midnight, Pepper’s eyes started closing on their own accord, and Bruce gently shook her awake and suggested to retire for the night.

“You will have your own bedroom with bathing facilities upstairs and should find everything you need. If not, feel free to contact Alfred.”  
He looked at her with keen eyes and, after some internal debating, bent down to give her a small peck on the cheek.  
“Sleep well Pepper. And thank you.” 

Surprised at the shy gesture, Pepper wondered if there was more to Bruce Wayne -supposed playboy prince of Gotham City- than the public gave him credit for. With an affectionate smile she wished him the same in return and left for her nightly quarters. Despite the unfamiliar surroundings she was asleep as soon as she had pulled the soft clean sheets up to her nose, turned on her side and got a last glimpse of Gotham by night.

 


	15. Chapter 15

After sleeping in until 9AM the next morning, Pepper freshened up, got dressed and made her way downstairs. Bruce was sitting at the breakfast table and discussed something with Alfred, who hovered around and prepared the finishing touches to a rich selection of beverages, fruit and bread. At her entrance, both men stopped conversing and greeted her good morning.

Her astute mind did not fail to observe the footprints Bruce slipped to his butler in a discreet vanishing act, but she pretended to not have noticed. 

“Miss Potts, I hope you had a pleasant night?”  
She accepted the chair the butler offered her and slid her handbag over the backrest.  
“Yes, thank you Alfred.”

After she chose tea over coffee she glanced over at her weekend’s most pressing concern. The morning found Bruce to be looking a little more rested then the previous evening. The slight stubble on his face was gone and his eyes seemed calmer. He was again clad in casual clothes; a pair of gray slacks and a dark blue, long-sleeved polo shirt. She smiled at him.

“And how did _you_ sleep, Bruce?”  
He smirked over the rim of his coffee cup.  
“Better than the night before. I’m afraid I have to go to the Manor after breakfast though.”

The billionaire put his cup down and gave an apologetic smile. “You will of course be able to make use of all facilities around the hotel – spa, gym, restaurants, shopping mall…” The redhead stirred the teaspoon in her cup as she let his words sink in before she looked up at him. “Actually I… would like to accompany you. That is, if you don’t mind, of course.”

Bruce’s eyebrows rose and he cast his butler a quick glance. Pepper held her breath for a moment. In less than a split second, Bruce’s debonair mask was back in place and he half shrugged, half nodded. “It’s likely not a place one would prefer to a decent massage, but if that’s your wish, well...” He looked his butler again as some non-verbal conversation passed between the two; a conversation out of her sphere.

“Alfred, I suggest Miss Potts and I are going to take the Lamborghini then. Please have it prepared in half an hour.”

The elder man bowed and left them alone without giving the woman at the table a second look. Contrite, Pepper looked at Bruce who had started to cut up pieces of bread. His face did not portray any kind of emotion she could decipher, so she decided to take the offensive.

“I hope this didn’t come out as silly as I’m afraid it did?”  
The billionaire shook his head as he toyed with the knife in his hand.  
“No, but your concern’s highly appreciated, Milady.”

She huffed in return at his mocking words and took a slice from the basket he offered. “Oh thank goodness. Otherwise I probably would’ve brought this…” Pepper reached into her bag to reveal a square object wrapped in shimmering anthracite paper with a dark red ribbon. “…for nothing. Which would’ve really been a shame.”

Bruce’s eyes flickered from her smiling face to the present. When he did not move, she pointedly shook it a little for him to grasp. His fingers brushed against hers as he eventually took the small parcel from her hands, and Pepper cleared her throat. “I know the timing is not at all perfect, and I wish the circumstances were better but still: Happy belated birthday, Bruce.”

Curiosity and confusion lingered in his eyes.  
“Now this is indeed… unexpected. How did you…?”  
Pepper raised an eyebrow, a teasing expression on her face.

“A lady never divulges her secrets, Mister Wayne. Are you planning on opening it up?” 

With a quick tug on the ribbon, Bruce unwrapped his present and revealed an illustrated ‘Penalites’book by Miró with twenty-five original lithographs. It was a limited edition, individually signed by the artist himself. Pepper was incredibly proud of her short-term achievement and inwardly thanked her longtime friend and gallery owner for helping her out on such short notice.  
  
When Bruce did not speak, she felt the need to justify her intentions; all the while berating herself over how much she wanted to please him. “So I figured the ‘Peinture’ didn’t survive the fire, and this might give you an idea for upcoming purchases… or something to look at until insurance matters is regulated.” He regarded the cover of the book in silence before a small smile started to play upon his lips.  
  
His hazel eyes found her still watching him, gauging his reaction.  
“This is very thoughtful. Thank you so much.”   
Bruce thumbed through the first few pages before he put the book aside and exhaled.  
  
“You’re making it difficult for me, you know?”  
His voice was so quiet that Pepper almost missed the actual words. With a frown she looked down at her plate.  
“If you really don’t want me to go with you I’ll stay here. I can…”  
  
His brow furrowed in momentary confusion before he understood.  
“Oh no, now you’re coming with me. Let me show you the place I grew up at – or rather what is left of it.”   
They finished breakfast more or less in silence.

***

Half an hour later, they stepped out to where his Lamborghini Murciélago awaited them.  
  
Pepper, whose guilty pleasure were men who knew how to drive fast cars, had long since been convinced her boss was hands down one of the best drivers she ever had the pleasure of accompanying. Much to her surprise, she found Bruce Wayne not taking a backseat to Tony’s driving skills, and thoroughly enjoyed their trip. The billionaire got them through Gotham’s abating morning rush hour with ease.  
  
Before she knew it, the scenery changed from dull, gray metropolis to gentle highlands full of lush green grass, with little cottages left and right. Bruce told her they had entered the outer city limits; a neighborhood commonly called the Palisades. After they drove down winding roads for about half an hour, Pepper saw the still smoldering remnants of a Victorian extravagance towering in the distance. She turned to her silent driver.

“ _ _This__ is all yours?”  
Bruce gave a crooked smile, but continued to focus on the road.  
“Yes, all of what you now see belongs to the Wayne family property since… oh, since pretty much a very long time.”

Pepper continued to stare at the wreckage in silence, until Bruce stopped the sports car about fifty yards from the burned-out Manor.  
“It’s best we walk the rest of the way. The Lamborghini’s too low-slung to make it all the way up with the debris around.”  
Bruce motioned for her to wait and got out first. He walked around to open the eccentric passenger door and assisted her.

She accepted his help and was glad she had decided on a pair of flat leather boots for the trip. Wayne grabbed a pair of heavy fabric gloves from underneath her seat and motioned for her to follow him. His long, black woolen coat wafted behind through the harsh winds of the Palisades. Pepper tugged the belt of her trench coat tighter around her waist.

Gravel crunched underneath their shoes as they reached what used to be the main entrance of Wayne Manor. Several construction workers were on-site and shoveled away debris and charred wooden beams. Bruce put his gloves on and cast her a questioning look. “I got to take care of a few things, but I shouldn’t be too long. Are you okay with exploring the scenery and distracting the workers from over here?”

With an amused laugh she shooed him away before she wandered along the premises. She kept a lookout for some salvageable finds, but most belongings were burnt beyond saving. When the tip of her boot touched what vaguely resembled a thick photo album, the young woman swallowed and regarded the blackened item. Her eyes then searched for Bruce, until she had spotted him high up on a dangerous piled obstacle.  
  
Unmindful of her scrutiny, he disappeared behind it with a jump. Fowning, Pepper walked back towards his sports car and stuffed cold hands into her pockets. Just then her phone started to vibrate from her inside pocket; its ring tone giving the caller away. She muttered to herself as she fumbled for the hidden device. “Decent timing as usual, Stark.”

When Bruce returned from the construction site after he had talked to the foreman, he saw Pepper had meandered back to the Lamborghini. She was leaning against the car, phone in her hand, and her voice wavered over to him, face furrowed in exasperation. Upon his arrival, she gave a few noncommittal answers and hung up with an almost guilty expression on her face.  
  
Bruce raised a questioning eyebrow before he opened the passenger door for her.  
  
“Work. Or rather - what absurdities Tony considers work.” Pepper sighed with slight resentment in her voice, and missed out the nanosecond Bruce narrowed his eyes at the informal mention of her boss. “I take it you have to go back today?” With a sigh she slipped into the sport seat and nodded, busy fingers already flying across the StarkPhone to make reservations for a flight back. “I’m afraid I do.”  
  
Bruce got in behind the wheel, ignited the V12 engine, and wordlessly drove them back to the hotel.

***

Back at the penthouse, the billionaire leaned against the backrest of his couch of the spacious living room, pensive look on his face, when his guest came down the stairs with her bag in the left and her phone in the right hand. They stood facing each other for an awkward moment, unsure how to say their goodbyes. Pepper put her bag down between her legs and blew a strand of hair out of her face.

“Well, this is it then.”  
Bruce Wayne studied her intently. His hands disappeared in the pockets of his jeans and he gave a thin-lipped nod.  
“A jet will be waiting for you at the airfield and take you back to New York. Have a save flight home.”

At the barriers slamming up right in front of her, Pepper responded with an equally noncommittal nod and smile before she bent down to pick up her bag and walked over to the elevator. As she stole one last glance at him before the doors closed, she saw a raw vulnerability flash across his face. Convinced she had made things up, she she blew out her cheeks and tried to comprehend what just had happened.

A part of her wondered if it might have been the last time she would ever hear or see of him again.

After she had arrived in New York for a stopover, a tired Pepper reached Malibu a little before midnight and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. She had at least made use of her in flight time to comply with Tony’s urgent wish for another lab within Stark Tower, and had contacted the consulting engineers via e-mail.

The top ten floors of Stark Tower consisted of the finest and most state-of-the-art R&D facilities Stark Industries had to offer, and were what Tony lovingly called his candy land. Why he felt the need to add another facility Pepper did not know, but wisely kept her opinion to herself.

 


	16. Chapter 16

Malibu, March 2010  
  


As it turned out a few days later, the lab was supposed to be for a certain Dr. Banner and not for Tony himself. It caused Pepper to quarrel with the construction supervisor about throwing the standard concept out and revamping it to serve a different purpose. She almost blew a gasket when she was forced to do many extra hours on behalf of Tony’s failure to inform her on time about special installations.

One Thursday afternoon, the frustrated PA walked in on her boss who stood in front of some holographic interfaces in his workshop. Tony was busy waving about bits and pieces of information and did not acknowledge her presence. The sound system blasted horrendous hard rock, until Pepper asked Jarvis to turn it down a few notches. She refrained from having it switched off, as that never got her what she wanted.  
  
Pepper tapped her foot in irritation as it also did not bring any reaction whatsoever from him.  
“You could’ve told me earlier, you know?”  
Fully immersed in his task, Tony made swiping gestures on what looked like charts and periodic systems.  
  
“Told ya what, dear?” 

With a huff she slapped the pile of new floor plans with a long attached list on his desk. There were so many attachments, it almost filled a new folder. “Told me about the special requirements for this Dr. Banner. I mean: Sapphire glass? Okay, fine. But cubic crystalline boron nitride panels? Are you pulling my leg here?” With an exasperated look on his face, Tony eventually turned around.  
  
“Well, if I start hosting a guy who’s DNA got screwed by gamma ray exposure I’d say it’s better to be safe than sorry, wouldn’t you agree?” He ignored her baffled stare, threw the papers in question a quick, indifferent glance and turned his attention back to the multitude of bluish screens in front. Pepper snapped her mouth shut and gave a resigned nod at his backside. She really did not want to know she decided; not now, not ever.  
  
“Okay, whatever. I just want to have that kind of info before I contact the engineering team - Tony, please. They’ve already fallen behind schedule, they don’t need anymore setbacks.” His murmured “Mhm” could as well have been aimed at the holo-screen. Pepper Potts inwardly counted to five, walked around him to grab used plates and coffee cups from his desk and left the workshop.  
  
The second the hydraulic glass doors had closed behind her, the volume of the music increased.  
In moments like those, Pepper Potts could not help but to feel weary of her job.  
Sometimes, she just wished for something to give her a decent incentive, or for a certain someone to honor her efforts.  
  
One of her few friends back in the days had never understood why such an intelligent woman like her wasted her time babysitting a notorious glib-tongued, womanizing playboy. Sometimes, even Pepper Potts caught herself wondering what life would have been like if she had not become so attached to the man-child genius downstairs.

Back in the present and up on the ground floor, she put his used flatware into the dishwasher and resumed her seat on the couch in front of her notebook. Her hands fished for her bag and dug in for her chap stick before she took a look at her phone. Pepper checked for any missed calls, since she hated wearing her headset everywhere around Stark Mansion.  
  
There were none, but the text message icon flashed on the screen without a sound.  
Curious she flipped an index finger across the touch screen and opened the message.  
_'I_ _heard Miami is nice for yachting this time of the year.’_

Attached was a picture of a flyer for the Miami Sailing Week 2010. Perplexed, she glanced around to make sure no one spied over her shoulder, Jarvis included. She then shook her head at his brazen implication before she formulated a reply seconds later. _‘Coming from someone who owns a yacht for not even six months?’_ Pepper placed the device aside and tried to focus back on her latest e-mail.  
  
Her attention got diverted again when her phone bleeped a couple of minutes later. _  
'I_ _t’s why I need a second mate on board - help a greenhorn out.’_

She had to suppress a laugh upon the mental picture of a smug Bruce Wayne texting underneath the table and probably not paying attention to whatever meeting he was attending. Or, Pepper wryly thought, maybe she had just been around Tony for too long to assume all billionaires were mammals with short attention spans.

 _'What about your very capable right-hand man?’_  
The next answer took less than a few seconds to blip on her screen.  
' _H_ _e doesn’t look that good in a bikini. So?’_

Hovering between indignation and amusement, Pepper took her time in formulating an unperturbed answer.

 _‘How_ _unfortunate indeed. What’s the deal?’_

The final message she received was a first overview on boarding times, schedules and what to expect during the next but one weekend. Bruce Wayne and his possession had to make a promised guest appearance on Saturday March 13th, the very last day of the regatta event. The VIP yacht departs was scheduled for 10:30AM, and the grand awards party would take place around 5PM in the afternoon.

All Pepper needed to do was to get to New York for a pick-up flight to Miami International Airport. There, she would meet up with Bruce at Coral Gables to do the embarkation for Biscayne Bay together. The 'Sovereign' was already on its way to Key Biscayne and would await them at the event location. With regards to her long list of missed out vacations in the past six years, Pepper mustered up enough courage to accept his invitation.

Much to her luck, her initial fear of Tony being extra demanding before her vacation weekend was unfounded.

He had been spending more and more time with the people from S.H.I.E.L.D.; preferably in his Iron Man suit. She suspected they were sending him out on various test missions to see if he was as good as he boasted, but Tony remained so unnervingly vague about his latest whereabouts, that Pepper gave up asking whenever she saw him donning the undersuit.  
  
She figured Jarvis was keeping tabs on him, and would inform her should any serious incidents regarding his health occur.

On Friday 12th, Pepper flew over to New York to sleep at the newly furnished private area deck at Stark Tower. It had recently gotten finished, together with her own office on the 50th  floor. Several loose ends had to be wrapped up before Miami, and Pepper wanted to make sure to leave her desk and her filing basket clean. The laboratory for the mysterious Dr. Banner had been finished just in time the day before, much to her relief.

Excited, she grabbed her trusted weekender and left the Tower before 6AM on Saturday morning to catch an early flight over to MIA.

 


	17. Chapter 17

Miami / Biscayne Bay, 13th  February 2010  
  


The cab drive from Miami airport to Coral Gables only took about fifteen minutes, and Pepper arrived at the posh harbor area earlier than assumed. In order to pass the remaining time, she settled down in a nearby café and took a rest from her early morning travel. She put her hair up into a ponytail, her sunglasses upon her head and leaned back.

As she sat and sipped on an iced coffee, she watched the scenery. The ocean sparkled in bright blue hues in the distance and she could smell the distinctive sea salt aroma that lingered in the air. The red-haired woman was looking forward to a cool breeze upon the yacht later on. When she was about to fetch her mobile from her bag to see if she could reach Bruce and tell him where she was, a familiar black limousine stopped in front.

Dressed immaculately in a dark blue suit with a light blue crisp button down shirt, no tie and a pair of dark sunglasses, Bruce Wayne got out, looking every bit the suave playboy billionaire. Pepper caught herself staring at his tall athletic physique from afar, before she was quick to clear her throat at her wayward feelings and tried to distract herself by giving him a little wave.  
  
Bruce approached her table and sat down next to her.  
Without warning he took her hand in his and grazed her knuckles with his lips.  
"Did you have a smooth flight, Pepper?"

He did not release her hand afterwards, and continued to hold it as he signaled for a waiter to bring him a double espresso. She fought the blush that crept along her neck, nodded, and hurried to answer him, senses tingling from his touch. "Yes, thanks. But do you have a tracking device planted on me somewhere I don't know of?" Wayne leaned back in his seat and extended his arm; their entwined hands now placed on his armrest.  
  
He smiled that secretive, hidden smile Pepper had gotten used to, and cocked his head. "A gentleman never divulges his secrets, Miss Potts. I’m sure you’ve heard that before." The waiter then arrived with his espresso, which caused Bruce to let go of her hand and Pepper to miss the feel of his cool fingers in hers. She told herself to keep her head on straight; that was dangerous territory they were starting to approach.  
  
When she realized he still had his sunglasses on, Pepper also reached for her beverage and took another sip. She then pointed to his Ray Bans with a teasing smile. "Hmm I see. So that's what you're still wearing these for, Mister Wayne? Secret measures?" The billionaire took a swig of his espresso before he placed the little cup back on the saucer, licked his lips and with one movement took off his glasses.  
  
Pepper gave an audible gasp at the fading reminiscence of a black eye that framed the skin around his cheekbone. "Gosh Bruce, what happened to you? Where did you get that shiner?" When she reached out for his face by instinct, his hand shot up as quick as lightning to stop her in her tracks. Startled Pepper pulled back, flabbergasted by his reflex movement. Contrite flashed across Wayne's face as he put his shades back on.  
  
"Sorry. I encountered a two-by-four at the construction site couple of days ago. My bad for not paying enough attention."

When it became clear the topic was over for him, she asked questions about their upcoming cruise event schedule instead. "We need to get going soon; Alfred's already aboard and will meet us at the marina. They wanted to display the Sovereign for the VIP yacht departs before the regatta finale starts. Unfortunately it also means we'll be loitering around until the race is over and the fun part begins around 5PM. Okay with you?"

Pepper nodded, emptied her iced coffee and reached for her handbag as Bruce paid the waiter a generous tip for their beverages.  
  
He escorted her over to the limousine and, with the help of Alfred, managed to get his guest discreetly on board; safe from the prying eyes of the PR teams who were swarming the gigantic vessel. Twenty minutes later, they sat down in the plush lounge area at the bow of yacht and let their gazes wander across the coast line where a multitude of white sailing boats were lined up before the final race.

As the butler took care of their luggage and disappeared inside to tell the crew they were ready to cast off, the 'Sovereign' ignited with deep roaring sounds soon after. They felt themselves being pressed into the smooth leather couch as the three MTU engines pushed the sleek vessel forward. With a roguish grin, Bruce spread his arms out on the backrest, crossed his ankles and turned his head to look at his companion.

“Are you prone to getting seasick by the way?”  
Indignant Pepper dug her elbow into his side. Incredulous, Bruce rubbed his ribcage.  
“Guess that means no.”

The ship’s crew got the most out of the powerful sports yacht for the show and had the vessel plowing through the water at top speed of 30 knots. Pepper and Bruce had decided to swap their respective outdoor seats for the salon indoors in order to “Hold on to dear life” as she had put it. After 25 minutes, the show was over, and the 'Sovereign' went at a more leisurely pace and moved out of the regatta course.

Pepper took the opportunity and went for her guest cabin to freshen up and change. She had toyed with the idea of bringing a demure swimsuit, but then decided on humoring Bruce and changed into a coral-colored bandeau bikini which was not too revealing but still showed off her assets. In order to defuse her outfit, she slipped into a sheer, silken cover up, undid her ponytail, and left her tresses open.  
  
Barefooted she padded back up to the aft deck and marveled at the warm breeze on her bare legs and feet. With her robe gathered in one hand, she made her way all the way over to the bow of the yacht, where she saw Bruce raising the retractable cover to form a sun shade over the jacuzzi. He, too, had changed and wore a pair of black knee-length swim trunks which exposed a pair of quite muscular calves.  
  
He had donned a white linen shirt with its sleeves rolled up and the buttons completely undone, which gave Pepper a generous view on a set of chiseled pectoral muscles and ripped abs. She swallowed hard at the sight and tried to refrain from staring. Her mind told her to focus; she had seen Tony wearing considerably less over the years and always managed to stay nothing short of professional.  
  
Pepper then cleared her throat.  
It did feel quite dry all of a sudden, and she cast a longing glimpse at a large carafe with clear liquid on the table.  
“Hey.”

At her voice Bruce turned around from where he balanced on the couch element and took in her presence. For a split second he did not say anything and simply regarded her. It caused Pepper to feel shy under his scrutiny, and she brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear to deflect from her person. Bruce hopped down and wiped his palms on his shirt. He gave her a rare, sincere smile that actually softened his eyes.

“You look beautiful.”

Pepper thanked him before she took a seat and the proffered glass of cool sparkling water with lemon flavor from his hands. They were served a large platter with fresh fruit moments later. Afterwards, she moved over to the railing to watch the spectacle of the regatta start, but strained to make out details across the reflective surface of the water.  
  
Bruce then stepped up behind her and presented a pair of binoculars right in front of her face. He smirked when she looked up at him over her shoulder, surprised and pleased at his foresight. She had to adjust the visual resolution a couple of times until she was able to see properly. Bruce remained close. His hands had encircled the railing; thus trapping her within his arms without actual touching her.  
  
Pepper’s senses all got alerted at once. She felt the warmth of his torso radiating through her thin robe, smelled the faint scent of sunscreen from his skin, heard his soft breath next to her right ear and had a hard time concentrating on the actual race. “They… really go quite fast – wanna see?” She tried to distract both of them as she held the binoculars up for him and, like a true gentleman, Bruce Wayne took the hint.  
  
He released her from within his all but embrace to give a brief glance through the binoculars himself. “Mhm, the wind’s quite strong today; let’s hope there’s no storm brewing later on. Weather’s quick to change here, and today’s been hellishly humid so far.” He then turned around to walk back to the table, placed the binoculars aside and emptied the rest of his sparkling water.  
  
As he lowered himself in one of the recliners, Bruce looked back over to where Pepper still leaned against the railing and threw him a rather indecisive look. The billionaire made an inviting, sweeping gesture around. “If there’s anything you’d like to do, feel free to make a suggestion. The crew should be able to comply with nearly every wish.” She walked up, claimed the recliner next to his, and pushed it into a horizontal position.  
  
“Nah, I’d rather make use of the scarce opportunity to do what I’m basically never able to – which is blissful nothingness.”

Bruce also leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms behind his head. He stared up at the sky with a relieved expression on his face. “That makes two of us. I guess I’ll just have to make up some outlandish stories about this trip to tell back home.” Pepper grasped the pair of sunglasses from where she had pushed them up into her hair, and placed them next to the recliner before she peered at him.  
  
“Knowing you, it’s probably going to involve jet pack flyboards, shark cage diving and such. A man of your caliber doesn’t do idle, or does he?” Her last sentence sounded far more flirtatious than she had intended it to, and Bruce gave her a conspiratorial look in return. “Ah Miss Potts, does that mean my secret is not save with you?” His voice held an equally ambiguous timbre.  
  
“Why no Mister Wayne, _my_ lips are sealed. Not a word from me. Let’s abandon ourselves to idleness like there’s no tomorrow.”  
They both laughed and stretched their limbs out on the shaded top deck area to enjoy the peacefulness of the moment.  
Two relaxing hours later, Pepper returned from the guestroom with another magazine to browse through.  
  
After she had sunken back down in her chair, her eyes came to rest upon Bruce’s still form. She realized he had dozed off, looking strikingly young and innocent while asleep. Using the rare opportunity to watch him, Pepper examined the black eye that seemed to have faded further due to the slight tan he had achieved. It would barely be visible by the end of the day.  
  
If not, Pepper Potts had proven to be an expert on concealing the wounds of reckless billionaires often enough.

Her silent observation went over to matted hair splayed across his forehead; still damp from his brief swim in the infinity pool fifteen minutes ago. Pepper’s eyes followed the droplets of water to where they descended to his neck and chest. They soaked the white linen shirt he had thrown over afterwards, not bothering to towel himself dry.  
  
Bruce truly worked hard for his athletic physique, and she wondered what kind of grueling routine achieved such impressive results. It was not the body of a man who wanted to show off amateurish gym results; it displayed true dedication to a cause that was out of her perception. Maybe he did fancy extreme sports after all, she pondered.  
  
Pepper then focused on the soft hairs on his arms, mustered his long, elegant fingers, and eventually let her gaze travel down to his stomach where taut skin erupted in slight goose bumps from the sprinkle of water drops. Just then, Bruce stirred lightly and adjusted his head. Quick to hide behind her latest Vogue and pretending to be avidly reading, Pepper missed out on the small smile tugging at the corner of her company’s lips.

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some non-explicit, off-screen M/F situation towards the end of this chapter. Still not enough to go up on the rating.

Around 4PM, they rose to get ready for the award's party in their separate cabins.  
  
Bruce finished first and busied himself watching his crew maneuver the yacht back into the harbor area; highly tempted to steer the powerful vessel on his own next time. He then met up with Alfred in his master cabin and let the elder man brief him on what to expect ashore.

“Master Wayne, the weather forecast does indicate heavy thunderstorms for tonight. It might be wise to be back early in order to warrant a safe re-embark of you and Miss Potts.” Bruce pursed his lips and nodded, all the while busy rolling up the sleeves from his black button down shirt. He was relieved the event was informal, and the list of attendees held no unpleasant surprises for both him and his female company.  
  
Amongst the sailing VIP scene, Bruce Wayne and Pepper Potts could stay incognito and enjoy a carefree evening.  
  
“I’m sure we’ll be back in time. Don’t stay up for us, Alfred - I don’t want Pepper to feel like she’s on curfew or something.” With a kindhearted smile Alfred Pennyworth watched how the young man, whom he had cared for since his birth, put on his chronograph before he applied an expensive fragrance and checked his hair one more time. Soon Bruce swung around, ready for Alfred’s opinion.

“Certainly Sir. May I add that you look quite spiffy tonight?”  
With a lopsided smirk Bruce walked past and gave an amicable pat to the butler’s shoulder.  
“Thanks Alfred, doing the best I can.”

As Bruce stood outside the aft deck and waited, he slipped his hand into the pocket of his dark dress pants and let his gaze travel across the illuminated shoreline of Miami. He looked up into the sky and narrowed his eyes at the fast moving clouds. One could already feel the upcoming storm in the air, and Bruce rubbed his slightly damp neck with a palm. Just then Pepper appeared in the doorway, her eyes resting on him.  
  
They took in the others appearance from afar before he reached out and gave her a hand for the last couple of steps. She had chosen a sleeveless cocktail dress and a pair of light peep toes. Her hair was down and parted in the middle and she had put on some decent make up. When they came to stand in front of each other, both started speaking at the same time; wanting to compliment the other and stopped with a laugh.  
  
Bruce then offered her his arm and led her over to where a small dinghy took them across the shore and towards the marquees of the hospitality village at the waterfront. They arrived to the pulsating sounds of booming dance music and around two hundred people who were already socializing, eating and dancing all over the village area. The billionaire used the opportunity to take Pepper’s hand and lead her through the crowd.  
  
At the bar, he leaned in close to inquire about her choice. Finally not invited to a party where she had to remain professional and stone-cold sober to watch the restless back of Tony Stark, Pepper uttered her request for vodka martini with three olives. Surprised the Gothamite nodded and added another one sans olives to his order. He rarely, if ever, drank as it hampered his cognitive skills, and reminded himself to take it slow.  
  
He handed her the glass and watched her take a small sip before she licked her lips and sucked an olive off the swizzle stick as she looked around. Bruce swallowed, also took a swig from his drink and mimicked her wandering glance to distract himself. As the alcohol burned down his throat, the billionaire thought about heading for the buffet soon. Both of them had not eaten enough to stomach their drinks.  
  
Pepper seemed to have the same thought as she placed a gentle hand on his bare forearm and gestured to where people stood and helped themselves to various gourmet foods. Bruce nodded and started to cut his way through the crowd, making sure the woman by his side did not get lost or jostled. “Please tell me there is not just caviar and seafood hors d’oeuvre, or else I start to scream.”  
  
He looked at her quizzically.  
“Allergies?”  
She affirmed with a nod, and Bruce craned his neck to get a glimpse across the heads of the waiting crowd in front of them.  
  
When he looked back down to her his face held an unusual, surprising bout of utter cheekiness.  
“Okay, I won’t tell you.”  
When she pinched his upper arm in indignation, Bruce hastened to list all non-seafood delicacies he could spot until it was their turn.  
  
With filled plates they retreated to a bar table in a quiet corner of the pavilion. After pushing empty plates aside, Bruce glanced around and watched the carefree atmosphere with a wistful expression on his face. Pepper took another sip from her martini and gave his shoulder a light nudge. “Penny for them, Bruce?” He shook his head, gave a little laugh and twirled the stem of his glass between thumb and index finger.  
  
“Honestly? I’m feeling a little out of place here. Even though it’s refreshing not to be at those stuck-up parties in Gotham for once, I guess I… unlearned how to have fun.” Pepper, a little giddier than usual, held up her glass towards him. Bruce smirked and raised his up in mid air as well. “Here’s to two people with restraining backgrounds who need to be taught a lesson in how to party.”  
  
The billionaire accepted her toast with a nod and a grin as they clinked glasses and emptied their drinks.

Half an hour later, Bruce Wayne found the effects of the alcohol kicking in, his mood improving, and the woman at his side indeed having fun. They had meandered back to the other bar near the dance floor and had another round of vodka martinis before they switched to soda, to balance out the liquor’s effects. Their banter remained polite, if a trifle more informal than the previous days, but neither seemed to mind.

When Pepper started to sway her hips to the sounds of Will Smith’s classic ‘Miami’ song, Bruce mustered up the courage to sneak an arm around her waist from behind. He felt her tense up for a split second and almost pulled back, but then there was her hand on his arm, holding him in place. They stood rooted to the spot for the next two songs; neither of them daring to turn and spoil the magic of the moment.

Around 9PM, the party reached its maximum and people pressed themselves up on the dance floor, moving in a steady rhythm. Meanwhile Bruce’s grip on Pepper’s waist had gotten a little bolder, and she in turn had started to caress his bare forearm with her fingers. As soon as the first sounds of Rihanna’s new release “Te Amo” blasted through the speakers, the crowd whooped in ecstasy.

Pepper closed her eyes against the overload of impressions for a moment, and felt her head spin with slight tipsiness. She looked down to where she still stroked Bruce’s arm, and gave into the urge of leaning into his chest to place her head next to his shoulder. His fingers clenched around her stomach for a split second as she caught him by surprise. Not long after, his other arm was around her waist in a tight embrace.  
  
Eventually she tilted her head upwards and caught his eyes, dark and intense, staring back at her. In one gentle motion, Bruce turned her around so that she faced him, and clasped her waist again. Her hands linked at the back of his neck on their own and they smiled at each other before they swayed to the music together. Pepper studied the chiseled features of her opposite.  
  
The intoxicating smell of his fragrance, his warm hands on her waist where his thumbs traced circles, and his half-parted lips had her senses on overload. Bruce blinked a couple of times and started to zoom in on her in slow motion, until their foreheads touched and their mouths were inches apart. When she felt his breath warm on her face, Pepper’s eyelids fluttered shut.  
  
Her fingers played with the soft strands of hair at his neck which were slightly damp with sweat. Neither of them made the final move to close the small distance between them, however, and before Pepper knew it, memories from her almost-kiss with Tony flooded her mind. She saw them leaning in on the balcony at the fireman’s gala; saw them during their actual kiss on the rooftop after the expo.  
  
With a sharp intake of breath, Pepper’s eyes shot open and she pulled back, startled. The silent rejection on Bruce’s face was almost too hard to bear. With regret she cupped his cheek and urged him to look at her again. “Some air, I need... some air, please. Can we just…?” She indicated with her head towards the exit of the marquee. Bruce took her hand with a curt nod and led her towards the beach.

Out on the wooden planks, Pepper haltered his stride soon after, balanced herself on his arm with one hand to take off her shoes and walk barefooted across the sand. Before either of them could start to speak about what just had happened, a lightning bolt flashed across the sky in the distance followed by deep, rolling thunder. Bruce frowned, instantly sobering up, and squeezed her hand as she jerked at the unforeseen sound.

Wordless, she followed him to where he made his way across the shore. They reached the waterside and found their dinghy pilot who managed to embark them safely upon the 'Sovereign'. The second they had stepped on the main deck, the first large droplets of rain fell from the sky, and prompted them to hide inside one of the salons. There, they pulled the blinds up and peeked at the world’s end outside.

Bruce did not bother to turn on the lights.  
  
Pepper stood in the dark and watched the flashes of lightning in the distance; fascinated by their brightness across the ocean every time they hit the water. After some rustling, the billionaire stood close behind her, and she could feel his self-restraint radiating towards her in palpable waves. When he started to speak in soft hues, it sounded foreign to her at first; as if she had forgotten the sound of his voice over the course of the night.

“Remember when I told you you’re making it difficult for me?”

Pepper did not reply and only gave a slow nod; her mind going back to their conversation that very morning at his apartment. The realization about the true nature of his comment dawned on her, and she forced herself to stay calm. Her heart raced until she felt dizzy and had to steady herself on the frame of the large porthole window.  
  
His question seemed to reverberate within the cabin long after he spoke, playing in her ears over and over every time she thought she had an answer. She made a feeble attempt. “About coming with you to the Manor?” Her voice was barely a whisper as well, getting drowned in another heavy roll of thunder. It was not what she felt was the right thing to say, but at that moment, right and wrong had already begun to blur.  
  
All of a sudden, she felt his lips brushing against the shell of her ear and could not suppress the shiver going through her whole body. His breath grazed and tickled the sensitive skin there as he spoke. “No...” She closed her eyes at the sensuous way he then brushed her hair to the side and applied a feather-like kiss to the nape of her neck. Pepper felt that it had been too long; far too long.

“About me trying not to fall for you.”  
She almost lost her footing as the room spun. Pepper exhaled and turned around.  
That time, he looked straight into her eyes.  
  
“I tried... and I failed.”  
  
As another round of lighting flashed across the sky, their lips finally met in a slow, gentle kiss. Bruce Wayne kissed her like there was no tomorrow; her face in between his large hands, his fingers tangled within her hair. And so that night, Pepper Potts followed him into his master bedroom, her mind at rest and her body and soul craving for his tender ministrations.  
  
They made love to the sounds of the heavy downpour that followed the thunderstorm, and with the small part of her brain that remained functioning Pepper marveled at how very cliché it was. Still, the gentle way Bruce took care of her, made sure to fulfill her every desire, was breathtaking and never once made her regret her decision.

After their initial hunger was sated, they lay spent next to each other in between rumpled sheets and listened to the decreasing rainfall. Pepper’s head rested in the crook of Bruce’s arm from where she traced imaginary circles upon his bare chest. With a strange need to live up to the clichés for the night, she regarded the man next to her in blissful affection. His eyes stayed closed but his fingers brushed up and down her bare back.

The young woman felt a certain kind of safety which she had not felt since the vast majority of her thoughts started to revolve around a man in a metal suit. A man who was out risking his life each day, and who did not care about the dangers he put himself into. Maybe Bruce Wayne was the level of normalcy Pepper had always longed for; it just had taken her longer to realize.

“You know things are going to change.”

He left the true meaning of his sentence up in the air, but she understood nonetheless. It brought her back to reality. She gently broke free from his embrace and turned onto her back, sheets rustling as she nestled underneath them against the chill from the air condition on her naked skin. He opened his eyes and turned his head to study her profile in the semi-darkness.

“Yes. I don’t know how, though. I can’t…”

Pepper stopped, unsure how to go on. She did not want to think further about Tony at the very moment; in a way did not want him to ruin the satisfaction and contentment she was allowed to have all for herself. Next to her the mattress moved, as Bruce rolled over on his side and pulled her close to him once more while he buried his face in her hair. One of his muscular arms wound itself around her waist with care, and she smiled.

“Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Sleep.”

After he had planted a light kiss on her bare shoulder, his breathing soon evened out and he slipped off into a deep slumber. She interlaced her fingers with his and stared out into the dark of the night for a while before her eyes closed as well. As she lay and listened to the waves lapping against the hull of the yacht, Pepper relished the feel of his strong, warm body pressed up close behind her.  
  
It did not take her long to follow his lead.

 


	19. Chapter 19

Malibu, 14th  March 2010  
  


Somewhere in the dark bedroom, a mobile phone went off.  
  
The grueling sounds as it vibrated along on the wooden nightstand were a harsh cut through the peaceful silence. With a jolt, Tony Stark stirred underneath his linen sheets and extended one hand to fumble around for the object in question.  
  
“Mpmfh?”

“Mister Stark, there are things we need you to look over. How fast can you be in New York?” Agent Coulson sounded calm and controlled as always, maybe a trifle more chipper at the sleep-inducted haze of the person on the other line. Bleary-eyed the Californian billionaire rubbed a hand over his unshaven face as he propped himself up on one elbow.

“Gee hunny bunny, your voice’s definitely not the first thing I like to wake up to on a Sunday morning.”  
Coulson’s dispassionate voice gave no sign of amusement or being offended.  
“It is 4PM Mister Stark; we are expecting you at 6.”  
  
With no goodbyes the line went dead.

Tony mumbled a few foul-mouthed expressions, threw the phone aside and flopped back on the mattress. He ordered Jarvis to turn up the intensity of the window panes to 30 percent and to start the espresso maker. After a brief shower and shaving session, Tony entered his workshop with an espresso cup in hand. With S.H.I.E.L.D. expecting him to be there at 6, he would settle for 8 – if he wanted to play ball, that was.

“Jarvis prepare Mark VI, daddy’s going out tonight. Oh, and call Pepper. She’s in NY anyhow, so have her make reservations for dinner. Nobu Fifty Seven if she’s up for it.”

“Right away Sir.”  
Tony put the empty cup aside and threw himself into his swivel chair. Before he was able to focus on anything else, his AI spoke up again.  
“Sir, Miss Potts is currently not residing at Stark Tower. The security system indicates her last departure yesterday at 5:30AM.”

Tony frowned, an uneasy feeling growing in his stomach.  
“Well, then try her mobile.”  
His fingers drummed on his workbench while Tony waited until Jarvis spoke up again.

“Miss Potts does not pick up; do you wish to leave a message?”  
The billionaire waved his AI off, sprung back up from his chair and paced around his workshop in confusion.  
“Nah. If she’s not in New York and not at home – you’ve checked that one already, didn’t you – then where the hell…” 

He paused in mid-sentence and recapped the information Jarvis had given him.  
A thought then crossed Tony’s mind, one that had done him a similar favor some weeks ago.  
“Okay now, here’s what we do: Hop onto the SI security tracker J, I need a visual of Pepper’s route after she left Stark Tower yesterday morning.”  
  
With a clap of his hands Tony rubbed them together and popped a piece of gum into his mouth.  
He violently started chewing to discharge some of his anxiousness.  
“Use her mobile as initial point and just roll it from there.”

In less than five seconds, a blue holographic of New York City’s downtown area hovered in mid air within the workshop.  
With a satisfied nod, Tony walked up and made a wide spread gesture.  
“Put up virtual tracking route and display all of it horizontally.”

Jarvis did as he was told, which left Tony Stark standing amidst the huge 3D-city model.  
The billionaire then thoughtfully stroked the soul patch of his goatee with his right thumb.  
“The tracking route of Pepper’s cell phone in red. Take out all unnecessary elements.”  
  
A single red line appeared on the ground in an instant and Tony followed it with his eyes before he strode along.  
It stopped at the airport and vanished into nothingness.  
“Damn, why do I have the feeling I’m not gonna like this?”  
  
Tony stepped up on the gallery where his suits were neatly lined up in their hall of fame to get a better overview on the large hologram.  
“Jarvis, extend New York graphics to the rest of North America. Include air routes and waterways as well.”  
When the AI seemed to hesitate ever so slightly, Tony gave an indignant snort upwards and crossed his arms.  
  
“Hey I didn’t create you to cut me short - just do it.”

“Very well, Sir. Air routes and waterways will be displayed.”

The holographic scenery expanded and changed to the North American outline. After a few seconds the red line was back in place to describe a wide arc from New York over to Miami. Tony’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline while a look of pure disbelief radiated on his face.

“What the hell, Pepper?”

“Sir, it seems your decision on displaying waterways was valid. The upload is processing.”

The tracking line stocked for a brief moment as Jarvis re-rendered the 3D model to fit in the Atlantic Ocean. It eventually stopped at a point amidst the blue sea. Tony wandered around the hologram to circle the spot in question. Incredulous he pointed at it and squinted up.

“Sure you’re not shitting me, J? _That's_ Pepper’s current location? Is she friggin scuba diving??”

“Accuracy of current position: 98.5 percent. Shall I re-calculate to verify, Sir?”  
Irritated Tony shook his head no, marched back over to the mainframe and snapped two fingers into the air.  
“Close current graphics and delete.”

The workshop darkened as the bright blue display vanished into nothingness. Tony slid back into his chair; demeanor visibly darkened as well. After he sat motionless for a few moments and palmed his face, he eventually exhaled deeply between his fingers. “On second thought-… throw ‘em back up, J.” The AI complied without complaint. Tony swiveled around, shoved the gum into the pouch of his cheek and smacked his lips.  
  
“This time, show me all recent trips of Pepper since the New York amfAR gala.”

After he had created a new overlay to the current readout, Jarvis started zigzagging various lines across the virtual map. The AI used different colors to diversify Pepper’s individual traveling routes. Tony noticed the largest part of the tangled web consisted of routes that were identical, namely her flights between New York and Malibu. He quickly neglected those and discarded them into a virtual dustbin element on the side.

It only left a handful of connections that stood out like a sore thumb among the rest. The billionaire narrowed his eyes, requested a larger resolution of the areas in question and clenched his jaw tightly as virtual Gotham City augmented before his eyes. As it flickered in mid-air Tony swung around and slammed his palms upon the workbench. It caused the empty espresso cup to tumble sideways.

“Jarvis? Last one for today. Find out about any kind of events in Miami this weekend; check hotels and press releases for anything fancy and such.”  
“Do you have a certain keyword to go with your search, Sir?”  
Seething, Tony stood up and gave a violent kick to the chair underneath him.  
  
_“Bruce Wayne.”_

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up in this chapter - a lot of bad words. Or, as the great Captain America would say: "Language!"  
> No, but really though, major profanities and clichés in this chapter.  
> (Still on the fence whether this warrants a mature rating or not)

New York, 14th  March 2010  
  


At 9PM, Pepper keyed in the Stark Tower security card and made her way up to her office.

She was in a good mood and hummed a little to herself. The weekend had been the most pleasant she had experienced within the last months. She wondered if the unfamiliar feeling meant she was smitten like a teenaged girl; a thought that scared and excited her at the same time. It has been far too long for Pepper Potts to remember when she had last let her heart decide; so long that she almost forgot what it felt like.  
  
Being courted by Bruce Wayne indeed was balm for her stressed-out soul.

Most of the staff had already left and Pepper gave a small wave to the familiar security service members across the corridor. Her office was dark apart from the ghostly pale moonlight that shone through half closed blinds. She had just dropped bag and key cards on the shelf next to the door when she sensed a presence and stopped dead in her tracks.

A dark silhouette sat in her executive office chair, unmoving, countenance hidden by shadows.  
  
Pepper clutched her hand to her chest and almost let out a scream of fright. When she saw a faint bluish circle glowing in the distance however, she let her hand sink back down and exhaled out loud. “Tony! God, you almost gave me a heart attack! What are you doing here for heaven’s sake?” She turned sideways and flipped the dimmer switch to twenty percent, to give them a little light.  
  
When she was able to see him, the smile on her face froze.  
  
A nearly empty bottle of Scotch and a half-filled crystal tumbler were in front of him as Tony Stark darkly glowered at his assistant. “Well. Hey Pep, riddle me this: What are _you_ doing here; playin' hooky when you’re supposed to be in New York?” Nothing apart from his mouth seemed to move. His voice was thick with intoxication, and Pepper suddenly felt scared; something she had never felt in his presence before.  
  
He then started to move and reached out for his glass. If he was as drunk as she suspected him to be, his controlled motions did not betray him at all. Pepper stepped up closer to the desk and tried to calm her pounding heart. “Well, I… I was visiting a friend and…”  She flinched as he slammed the tumbler down on the expensive mahogany desktop and sloshed some Scotch onto it. Pepper instantly halted her steps.  
  
“Stop fucking with me, Pepper! I know exactly where you were, and I know bout those sneaky little games you’ve pulled since New York. You really think I’m that dumb, don’t’cha?” Taken aback, Pepper spread her arms in a peaceful gesture and gave him a look full of disbelief. ”Excuse me? ‘Since New York’? What ‘little games’? Tony, you’re not thinking straight here, now listen…”  
  
In a sudden fit of rage he jumped up; too feline for someone who had just finished at least one bottle of hard liquor, and strode around the table. “No, you listen to me, Potts, and you listen real good. I thought you were that one person on this planet whom I could completely trust – but no; what a huge pile o’ bullshit! Shame that it only needed another playboy by the name of Bruce Wayne for you to forget where your loyalties lay.”

Hot white anger flashed through Pepper’s veins at his condescending tone and she clenched her fists; blinking fast against a sudden sensory overload. “Stop. Stop right now, Anthony Stark. You have _no_ right to speak to me like that, after I hauled your sorry ass out of any kind of mess for the past ten years. Who do you think you are?” He gradually advanced on her, and Pepper felt cornered.  
  
She took a few steps back towards the door as he gave a short, callous laugh.  
“I know who I am, Pepper. I’m the fool who employs a traitor as personal assistant.”  
While his voice remained dead calm, Pepper found hers to be raising several octaves, almost into a shrill cacophony.

“Shut up, Tony! I am neither working for Wayne nor am I betraying your company! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Eyes wide in shock and disbelief, Pepper could not recall the good feeling from just mere minutes ago, before she had found herself in the clutches of a full-fledged, living nightmare. Tony Stark gave a cold look at the woman in front of him; took in her labored breath, the red blotches forming on her cheeks, and shook his head with a vicious sneer on his lips.

“No, you’re not working for him sweetheart; believe me, I know. You’re just fucking him - which, in turn, is basically the same thing in my book. Tell me though… is he good? Really good? Gets you off like there’s no tomorrow? Kinda makes me wonder why you’ve never tried to get _me_ in the sack all these years… thought you’re not my type, eh? If you’re so turned on by money and power, we really should’ve fucked a long time ago…”

It was that moment when Pepper found that she could not restrain herself any longer.  
“You _bastard!_ ”  
In one swift motion, her right hand struck out and connected full force with his left cheek.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh seemed to linger within the four walls and time seemed to stand still for a moment.

Shaking from adrenaline, Pepper covered her mouth in shock. Her breathing was ragged as tears started to brim in her eyes. She knew she had crossed a line from where there was no turning back. The billionaire had not moved so far, except for his head which had turned sideways from the impact of her slap. The reddish imprint of her five fingers formed on his skin, and a strangled sob escaped the back of her throat.

In their long history of arguments, fights and quarrels over the years, neither of them ever had relented to physical violence towards the other. At some point, Tony raised his head in slow motion and gave her the most ice-cold stare she had ever seen crossing his face. For one split second she even feared he might hit her back, but nothing happened until he hissed at her.

“Get out. Leave. You’re fired.”  
When she did not move and just stared at him, his face contorted with undisguised rage.  
“I said GET THE FUCK OUT!”

His hoarse screaming brought Pepper out of her state of shock and she stumbled backwards, grabbed her bag from the shelf and fled the office. After she had slammed the door shut, the crashing sound of glass against wood could be heard. She had to blink hard against the tears which pooled in her eyes as they made walking difficult.  
  
Pepper still managed to exit Stark Tower without stumbling over her feet and hailed a cab. With a shaking voice she asked for a ride to JFK airport and requested the partition screen to be pulled up. Once separated from the driver’s prying ears and eyes, she crumbled into a sobbing mess on the seat.

***

Twenty minutes later her crying fit had oozed out. It left her drained and puffy-eyed at the counter of a commercial airline looking for the next flight to Gotham City. After purchasing a ticket for a flight within the next hour, Pepper shuffled into a nearby coffee shop. She spent the queue time staring into a cup of coffee without actually drinking from it.  
  
When her flight got announced, the numb woman got up, left the full cup on the table and boarded a plane that would take her away from the terrible incident that just happened, away from what used to be her long-time friend and employer, and off into an unsure future. Two and a half hours later, with no luggage, no plans and a sickening feeling in her stomach, Pepper Potts stood outside Gotham’s airport and realized she had never been there before.  
  
Always being picked up by Bruce’s private Slipstream liners that got her where she wanted to go, she was too proud and too ashamed to give him a call after just having said their goodbyes. The organizational part of her brain finally sprung back into action, and Pepper figured she would rent a hotel room for one night, wind down as much as possible and call Bruce in the morning.  
  
She squinted against the slight drizzle that seemed to pertain his hometown and tried to get a hold of a cab. With a curse at her futile attempts ten minutes later, Pepper relented to walking on towards the city center where she hoped to stumble across suitable accommodation. When footsteps started to follow her after fifteen minutes, her instincts tingled with imminent danger.

Even though she had dabbled into training for self-defense, had sparred with Happy for some boxing rounds, and even had Tony introducing her to his long-time Wing Chun practices, she was scared. Pepper could make out at least two pair of legs that followed her. Without displaying too much panic, she tried to steer somewhere populated to get help, and could not help but to wonder where the police was when actually needed.

Her anxious thoughts came to an end when she realized she had walked into a dead end street, and had no choice but to muster up enough courage to turn around. As she had feared, there were two ragged men who closed in on her. “What do you want? Money? I have money; I can give it to you…” She grabbed her purse and stumbled backwards, to avoid the first man who reached out for her. He had bad teeth and bloodshot eyes.  
  
“Aww, sweetie, I’m sure you can. But you can give us so much more, right Mel?”

Using all of her body strength, she blocked his outstretched hand with her elbow and kneed him hard in the groin. He went down with a groan, and Pepper made a beeline for the street. Unfortunately, Mel was rather quick and caught her at the shoulder. It caused her to stumble and fall to the wet, dirty ground. Her head made an ungentle encounter with the pavement, and caused her to lose her grip on her handbag which skidded away.  
  
Pepper hissed as she skinned her palms and knees on the pavement, but continued to fight off the man who tried to wrestle her down. “Damn bitch, you’re a feisty one. But you’ll soon…” Without warning, her attacker got swept away by a dark flash of something and crashed head forward into the wall behind her. Stunned, Pepper shook her head clear and scrambled away from whatever just had gotten her a slight advantage.  
  
She clutched her handbag close to her body as shaking fingers fumbled for the pepper spray inside. Convinced that Gotham City was full of loons, her tumbling thoughts briefly tried to figure out if the mysterious thing in the dark costume and cape was even human. From where she was still down, Pepper turned around and saw the tall, dark figure attacking the second goon who had recovered from her earlier kick.  
  
With precise blows, the creature brought that one down as well and, within ten seconds, had both unconscious figures bound and gagged in the corner. Pepper tried to get up and away from the scene, but found her head to be swimming and her legs not cooperating. Nauseous, she watched in horror how the masked creature moved over to where she lay, curled in a fetal position.  
  
Hidden from its view, her fingers tightly curled around the pepper spray in her right hand, even as she winced at the pain from the raw cuts in her palms. When it made a move to crouch down and lift her up, Pepper mobilized her last strength reserves, swung around and sprayed it right in the face. With a hiss, the creature turned away for a second to protect its eyes with an arm.

Pepper attempted to run, but only managed to stumble on for a couple of steps before darkness claimed her and she passed out.

 


	21. Chapter 21

Gotham City, 15th  March 2010  


Beeping machines, a sterile smell, and distant murmurs from what sounded like a far away news channel got her back to reality.  
  
Pepper kept still, her eyes closed and intuitively knew she was in a hospital. While it at least meant she was not dead, she was unsure if it was for the better. With effort, she managed to pry her eyes open and stared up at a white ceiling. A rustle to her left made her turn her head. Bruce Wayne sat next to her bed, chin propped up on his hands, and worry etched on his face.  
  
His gaze was directed at a rickety TV station above the door. As soon as she had moved, however, he bent forward to clasp her left hand with care. Looking down, Pepper saw both her palms were wrapped in white gauze bandages. Bruce’s eyes darted across her face, filled with incredulity and concern before his free hand came up to brush a strand of hair from her bruised forehead.  
  
“God, Pepper - this is not how I wanted us to meet again.”  
  
She gave a meager smile and stared down at the blanket, humiliated and embarrassed at once.  
  
“I’m sorry. I just – I wanted to call you in the morning after getting to Gotham, believe me. But then these guys started following me and…” A little more agitated she pushed herself up to make sure she had his complete attention. “…and then there was a… a _thing_ , Bruce. A creature with wings – or a cape, I really don’t know - but it was scary. I thought people didn’t get any weirder than in New York, but that one really took the cake...” 

When he failed to comment and pressed his lips into a tight line, she leaned back and made a sound that was a mixture between a sigh and a laugh. The billionaire forced a smile on his face and caressed her hand with his thumb. “What matters most is that you are safe now. And you’ll hopefully tell me what happened that caused you to come back all of a sudden - and without telling me?” 

Pepper then got hit by all unpleasant memories from the night before and exhaled shakily. “When I got back to New York, Tony was waiting for me at the tower. He was… drunk. Really drunk like I haven’t seen him in a very, very long time and…” She stopped, her breath hitching, unsure how to go on. Bruce’s jaw tightened and his eyes became hard.

“Did he hurt you?”  
When she failed to answer, he cupped her chin and urged her to look at him.  
“Pepper - did he hurt you? Tell me.”

Upon seeing unmasked anger boiling beneath his usual calm surface, she shook her head and covered his hand with hers.  
“Only with his words. And probably not more than I hurt him in return. Basically he… he told me to get out of his company and out of his life.”  
A single tear then found its way down her cheek against Pepper’s will, to get soaked up by the blankets around.

“I will have to leave everything behind, Bruce - everything I’ve called my life for the past ten and more years. I’ll… need a while to digest that.” 

Bruce Wayne leaned back in the uncomfortable hospital metal chair and released her hands to wipe his eyes. Curious, Pepper watched him rub thumb and index finger across his eyelids multiple times and frowned at how red and watery they looked on closer examination. “What’s wrong with you?” He snorted and lapidary waved her off. “Allergies. Must be something in hospitals that sets me off, I don’t know. Doesn’t matter.”

Again he blinked a couple of times and stood up to walk over to the metal table, away from her scrutiny.  
“I want you to move in with me for time being. The apartment is more than big enough for two, and we’ll figure out how to go from there.”  
As she opened her mouth to utter a multitude of concerns and doubts, he turned back around to face her.

“This will include you going back to get your belongings out of your flat of course; I’ll have Alfred arrange everything necessary. But you won’t go alone.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Either I or an armada of bodyguards will be coming with you to avoid any other run-ins with your former boss.” Bruce Wayne walked back over to where she lay and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.  
  
He told her she would be able to leave the hospital in a couple of hours and should get some rest in the meantime. Feeling overstrained and in pain, Pepper simply nodded at his throughout plans. Her head started to pound again and she gladly welcomed sleep after he left. The drug-induced dreams she had were dark ones; dull shreds of memories with a lot of red, gold, and flashes of black in between.

***

Two days later, when the initial shock from the attack and her unemployment status had fully set in, Pepper was forced to make a decision.

Unfortunately, Bruce was unable to accompany her to Malibu, so she had to bear with five massive bodyguards who followed her every step from the airfield to her seaside apartment. She was glad for their silent company, though, as she watched herself going through the apartment like a robot to collect her belongings. To her actual surprise, it was not as much as she had assumed.  
  
When she was done after one and a half hour, she had reduced her possessions to fit into two large trolleys and a moving box.

She watched the muscled guards stash them in a rented minivan before she did one last sweeping turn around the condo. It now looked as if she had never lived there; like an expensive, nondescript hotel suite. Pepper had chosen to leave most of her clothes, shoes, and handbags paid by her former employer behind. They hung neatly lined up within the large closet as if waiting for the next personal assistant to wear them with pride.

Pepper remembered to empty the fridge before she switched the electricity off and asked one of the bodyguards to take the leftovers that were still digestible down to the local shelter around the corner. All blinds were down against the powerful rays of the sun as she locked the door one final time. In the limousine to the airfield, she watched with dull eyes as the shoreline passed by, until Paradise Cove had disappeared from her view.

To her bodyguards, she seemed half asleep, but inwardly Pepper planned her next steps. Bruce’s Slipstream liners came with a standard notebook and internet connection, so once they arrived at the airfield, she retreated to the back of the jet and booted up a laptop. Quick to log onto her online banking portal and the SI accounting portal, Pepper then started to transfer most of her savings back to Stark Industries.

Since she had started her career in accounting, she figured a direct transfer to the company’s main accounts would be too suspicious and cause unwanted scrutiny. She, therefore, chose the rather seldom used Maria Stark Foundation account for her considerable donation. With a sad smile at the irony of her actions, Pepper remembered to delete her account number from the SI payroll after she was done.

_'Anything so you’ll never be able to say I was only in it for the money, Tony.'_

What little she had left for herself got transferred to a private account she owned from her post-college times. It was an account not even Tony knew of, and Pepper vowed to rebuild her financial groundwork as soon as possible. The last thing she wanted was to be dependent on another billionaire’s goodwill, despite how much Bruce seemed to be smitten with her.

What Pepper Potts wanted was to get back to the grind soon; if only to occupy her mind and keep her thoughts off the shambles she called her life.

Two hours later, when she returned to her new Gotham City abode high up in the penthouse suite, Bruce was still nowhere in sight. Pepper nestled down on the plush couch in the living room with a simple black cardboard box plus separate lid next to her. Bit by bit she put various items inside:  
  
The Paradise Cove apartment key cards. Her Stark Phone with a stripped contact list and mailbox. The Jaguar XK car keys and its documents. SI security badges with her access-all-areas cards. The now useless company cash cards and business credit cards by the name of Potts.

With each item that vanished into the box, her heart got a little heavier.

Part of her wanted to abort her mission, wanted to call Tony and take back all the words and the wrongs that had happened. However her feelings, she knew it was too late for any kind of reparations after what he had said and she had done. She then secured and covered everything with padding material before wrapping the parcel tightly with duct tape. With big bold letters she wrote on top:

_**Anthony Edward Stark, 10880 Malibu Point, 90265 California. Private and confidential!** _

Pepper scribbled down a few lines, put the letter into an envelope and added it to the top of the parcel with more duct tape. On it, she wrote another address:

_Mister Harold Hogan, 26th Street Brentwood, 90049 California_

With a deep sigh, she went in search for Alfred and asked him to send it by registered mail.

Afterward, she crawled into the king-size bed and pulled the covers over her head.

 


	22. Chapter 22

Brentwood / Malibu, March 2010  
  
  
When the doorbell rang him out of a peaceful slumber on a Saturday morning at 8, a grumpy Happy Hogan shuffled to the door.  
  
Clad in boxers and a well-worn, too tight t-shirt, he found himself handed a little black parcel which he needed to sign for. After he had thrown the door into its lock, the chauffeur scratched his head and paddled back barefooted into his bedroom. He plopped down on the mattress which responded with a creak. Once he had recognized the handwriting, he snapped wide awake and all but tore the envelope off.  
  
As he read what was written on the parcel itself, Happy fumbled a meaty index finger in between the envelope’s flap and ripped it open. Inside was a single white piece of paper with neatly lined sentences:

_Dear Happy,_

_I know I can count on you to get the package delivered safely.  
All the best to you - try to forgive me._

_Pepper_  

His eyes came to rest on the very last sentence at the bottom.

_Please take care of him - always!_

Happy wiped his palm over his face multiple times, blew out his cheeks and let the letter sink aside. After he heard what had happened a few days ago from Tony’s point of view, Happy had been shocked and tried hard not to judge either of them. From the way the billionaire had beat around the bush, Hogan figured he had not heard the whole story.

He had consoled himself thinking that they would just need some time to solve the matter, just like they had solved their fair share of severe and not-so-severe fall-outs from over the years. Happy remembered lots of situations, where either Tony or Pepper threatened to be done for good, but neither of them actually ever had lived up to their empty threats, until now.

The bodyguard did not have a proper idea about what was in the parcel, though, but his stomach still felt wonky at the thought of having to deliver it to his boss sooner or later. The punching bag downstairs at his small home gym had to endure his frustrations he took out on it for about an hour before Happy showered, dressed, ate breakfast and decided to get it over with today.

Parcel aside, Happy slipped into the car Tony had gotten him for his birthday, pulled out of his garage and onto the highway towards Point Dume.

***

Thirty minutes later, he made a sharp turn onto the gravel driveway of Stark Mansion, put the Audi A6 in parking gear and grabbed the dreadful delivery from the passenger seat. Jarvis let him in, and Happy learned that Tony was still re-convalescent from last night's heavy drinking binge, but the ‘dry-cleaning incident’ had already been taken care of. Happy was sure he heard a bit of pride in Jarvis’ voice at that.

The notorious playboy at least managed to rise and shine from where he had passed out in his drunken stupor and had entered the bathroom fifteen minutes earlier. Happy sat down in the living room, scooped the parcel onto the expensive wooden table away from him and wiped his forehead. He did not have to wait too long for his boss to make an entrance.

The big man all but winced as Tony Stark staggered around the corner, still suffering from the reminiscent booze in his system. Tony sported a pair of dark shades, some faded jeans, and t-shirt, and wore his goatee a lot scruffier than usual. His left hand twirled a glass of orange juice while his pearly white teeth gleamed as he grinned at his visitor. He then pointed his right thumb and index finger at him in a show-off gesture.

“Hapster – sweet! What’s brought you here? If it’s to do with any kind of appointment, count me out, I’m _so_ not feelin' it today.” He paused to swallow the juice in one big gulp and placed the empty glass upon the sideboard next to him. “... speaking of which - what day's it anyways? Monday?” Happy saw right through his fake, carefree facade. He pursed his lips, leaned forward, and placed both elbows on his knees.  
  
“Saturday, boss. No appointments, but rather a... special delivery for you.”  
  
Hogan indicated his chin towards the innocent object on the coffee table. The billionaire cocked his head to the side and sauntered nearer, his interest clearly piqued. His mouth broke into another big grin, and the chauffeur felt ten times worse upon seeing his boss’ excitement. “Man, that’s gotta be some real fancy goodie if it got you to come out here on your day off and deliver it in person. Ah, ah, ah…”  
  
Tony held up a stern finger into the direction of Happy, cutting off his possible reply. “… _I_ know that _you_ know that _I_ don’t like to be handed things, right? Right! So that’s even more thoughtful of you Hap, appreciate it. That’s why you’re working for me all these years - because you’re that good. And caring. Trustworthy even. Unlike others, whom we shall leave unmentioned here.”

Unbeknownst to Tony, Happy started to fidget on the couch. He did not like the turn the conversation had just taken and started to fumble with a loose thread on his shirt. His wish to have stayed in bed that morning instead of answering the door made him curse the red-haired woman for getting caught up in situations he rather wanted to avoid.

"Uh, yeah, if you say so, boss…"

Tony plopped down on the couch across from his longtime confidant, propped his feet up on the table and snatched the parcel with one swift motion. Not bothering to look at the handwriting, he tore off the duct tape and threw the lid aside on the floor. He did not see anything apart from lots of filling material at first. Stark looked up at his squirming bodyguard and gave him a lewd grin.  
  
The billionaire seemed to think his friend was downright embarrassed by his naughty present, and the thought delighted him to no end. “Hey, what _is_ this? C’mon, admit it Hap, you got me something overtly kinky, right? Would've needed that last night with that little vixen… what was her name again? Man, she was a wild one...” Then Tony Stark stopped dead in his tracks, his train of dirty thoughts forgotten.

Without a sound, the padding paper fell down next to the lid on the floor. The only sound in the room was the labored breathing of the inventor, as he stared into the box with an unreadable expression on his face. His fingers went through the various items one by one with slow, deliberate movements. His longtime friend frowned at the sudden change in behavior.

“Bossman… hey? You still with me, Tony?” 

Happy was just about to inch closer, to get a glimpse of the contents, when the volcano that was Tony Stark erupted.

Lightning fast, the billionaire sprang to his feet and took the whole box to throw it full force into the direction of the gallery and the enthroned grand piano. His feral scream echoed through the living room area as the box landed with a loud crash. It survived the attack while the items inside clattered all over the marble tiles. The Stark Phone prototype snapped in half from the heavy impact, before it skittered away in pieces.  
  
Tony stared at the pile of shards like a madman with clenched fists, gritted teeth, and his chest heaving with fury.  
  
“FUCK, PEPPER!! FUCK!!!”

Happy watched his tantrum before he got up to interfere when Stark took his anger and frustration out on the expensive furnishings of his living room. Unseeing and uncaring he knocked off vases, sculptures, and books from tables and sideboards. Experienced boxer and bodyguard that he was, with four inches on Stark, Happy eventually was able to catch his boss' thrashing form in a tight grip.

Tony’s designer shades fell to the floor and got smashed by the heel of his sneakers as he raged on in Happy’s vice-like grip until he was dizzy, out of breath, and nauseous from his hangover. He went slack in his longtime friend’s arms after a while; the only sounds coming from the back of his throat an indefinable mixture between sobbing and cursing. Happy nodded along with a miserable look.  
  
“It’s okay boss, let it all out. It’s gonna be okay.”  
  
He then bodily picked up his devastated cargo and dragged the semi-conscious man over to the couch. With a propped up cushion beneath Tony’s head, Happy started to clean up the mess as good as he could. After five minutes, Tony stirred and numbly stared off into the distance until Happy swam into his vision. The billionaire turned onto his back, wiped his face and ran his fingers through his hair.  
  
“I wanna see it, Hap.”  
Hogan perked up at Stark’s hoarse voice from where he was trying to figure out which expensive non-broken item belonged where.  
“Wanna see what?”

Without gracing him with an answer, Tony swayed onto his feet into an upright position. He scuffed over to grab his MIT sweater from the bar-stool and made his unsteady way towards the main door. Happy put the latest piece of modern art aside and caught his sleeve to stop his motions as realization dawned on him. “Forget it. You’re not driving. The A6 is outside. Get in - I’ll take you there.”

With a listless nod, Stark slipped on the hoodie jacket and trudged on, rubbing his temples.

Outside the familiar condo, ten minutes later, Tony watched with growing frustration how Happy fumbled with the multitude of key cards from Pepper’s parcel, trying to find the correct one. Instead of being grateful for Hogan’s far-sightedness in bringing them along, the impatient billionaire snatched the pile from his chauffeur’s hands and swiped the right card over the transmitter in less than a second.

The door opened with a soft click, and Tony gave a meager smile before he entered the apartment.

Shaded rooms and musty air greeted them; indicating the living space had not been aired out in a while. As Happy made his way over to open the French window, Tony stuffed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and studied the abandoned condo with a grim expression. Everything was left neat and tidy; not a single personal item indicated someone had been living here only a couple of days ago.

Upon the gallery bedroom area with its built-in closets, Tony saw all sliding doors were open. He stared long and hard at the neatly lined up rows of coats, blouses, and skirts Pepper used to wear on a daily basis. He swallowed against a rough throat as his eyes wandered across the sheer endless line-up of high heels, designer bags and jewelry items she had left behind as well. Many of them had been presents from him.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose to fight the burn behind heavy eyelids and a fast approaching, pounding headache.  
“If you ever wanted to prove a point you just did, Pepper Potts.”  
Tony then turned and saw Hogan coming up the stairs upon hearing Tony’s voice.

Stark darkly shook his head, shooed him downstairs, and ordered him to close the French window again.  
“I’ve seen enough, Hap. Let’s go, there’s nothing here. She made sure of that.”  
The larger man complied with his wish bolted the panorama glass doors and left the apartment as it was, locked in darkness.

Their drive back was a silent one.

***

At Stark Mansion, Tony coaxed Happy into going home, stating he would manage on his own. He then had Jarvis run a scan on his former PA’s latest actions on the Stark Industries' servers and found out about a huge bank wire that had taken place only days ago. It had stocked up the Maria Stark Foundation fund with a considerable amount of money.

“Her money,” Tony muttered in a low voice while he impatiently waited for the aspirin to dissolve in his seltzer. “Most definitely, Sir. It appears that Miss Potts has transferred nearly all of her savings and past time salaries back to your company.” Jarvis paused to re-check the latest verifications on possible whereabouts or public activities of the missing woman.  
  
“It is the only trace Miss Potts has left if I may add, Sir.”  
Tony cast an annoyed glance upwards and threw the silver spoon aside with a clunk.  
“That was uncalled for J, but thanks.”  
  
Jarvis paused for a second, analyzed the apparent sarcasm in his creator’s reply, and filed the information away for a thorough, later procession. “Do you wish for me to scan all channels for any kind of mentions on Miss Potts in the future? Or are you going to accept her decision without objection?” Tony harrumphed while he chugged the entire seltzer in one gulp.  
  
After he had slammed the glass on his workbench, he pulled a face bordering on refusal and annoyance. “What’s with the Freudian pseudo-babble, Jarvis? Do I detect an update coming your way?” Grim, the billionaire stood up, feeling thirty years his actual age, grabbed a pair of barrel adjusters and moved over to his beloved Hot-Rod.  
  
As he lowered himself backward on the car creeper and disappeared underneath the expensive old-timer, he grunted one last time. “'Sides - I know where she is. And that’s why _I_ sure as hell am _not_ gonna go crawling back to her on my knees. _She’s_ the one who made a big mistake; _she’s_ the one who made the decision - and heck: Then so be it!”

Tony pushed the thoughts of his confidante from so many years to the back of his mind and decided to throw himself into work from that point on, to focus on the things he was good at: Mechanics, engineering, the Helicarrier project; anything that did not have to do with human relations would be fine with him. He never even bothered to call Rhodey and tell him about the recent dramatic change of events.  
  
The only people he grudgingly accepted in his orbit were Happy and people from S.H.I.E.L.D. To the outside world he was still Tony Stark -wisecracking, arrogant, billionaire playboy with a cool superhero identity to boot- but on the inside, he felt an emptiness he had not encountered since the night his parents had died in that fateful car accident, back in 1991.  
  
He looked for consolation and found it in the isolated space of his mansion, preferably his workshop.  
  
There, he could drink the nights away until his problems became too blurry to grasp, and nothing hurt, for time being.  
  
  



	23. Chapter 23

Gotham City, April 2010

  
Within the next few weeks, Pepper’s life underwent drastic changes.

Nearly each night she found herself jolting awake from horrendous nightmares with tears in her eyes, her heart hammering in her chest, and Tony’s name on her lips. Pepper would then lay still until the waves of anxiety ebbed off and allowed her some more hours of fitful sleep. April 04th  marked Tony's birthday, and the day she stayed in bed and bawled her eyes out.

Without enough strength to pick up the phone and give him a call, Pepper felt the ending of an era had reached its sad peak.

It also did not help matters that Bruce was away most of the nights and would sleep in a separate bedroom if he returned late; to not disturb her when he came back from where ever he went. If Pepper had not felt as miserable as she did, she might have long since started wondering why it was that he came home in the morning hours, in sometimes exceptionally bad moods, and moved as if he hurt all over.

Since she was so caught up battling her own demons, however, she never questioned his actions and was glad for those rare times when he was around and distracted her from her gray thoughts. She had almost completely lost her appetite, and with it at least ten pounds, despite Bruce’s gentle persuasions and invitations to the poshest restaurants around Gotham City.

When she started to get back to working out in order to fight her depression and anxiety issues, he made her chug protein shakes and energy bars to at least ensure that she would not waste away right under his eyes. Bruce even had Alfred book appointments with the most renowned therapists of the city, to work on everything that was still bottled up within her.  
  
Despite not being able to voice it, Pepper was grateful for his support and tried to focus on getting better on a mental and physical level. The tears she shed late at night remained lost to him for the most part, though. After another couple of weeks, over a rare breakfast together on a Saturday morning, Pepper uttered a shy wish for a new haircut.  
  
Her long red tresses were too painful a reminder of the person which once had been Pepper Potts, Personal Assistant to Mister Tony Stark.  
  
Bruce placed his newspaper aside, relieved she started to think about the future. He asked Alfred to organize a visit to a renowned salon in New York, followed by some much needed retail therapy. Bruce had not failed to notice how most of her clothes, from which she had brought far less with her to Gotham than he suspected her to own, had become too large in size.  
  
The butler, who had become fond of the young woman who seemed to soothe Bruce Wayne’s spirits in ways he himself could not promised to do his best. Pepper felt more than a little nervous about going back, with the Stark Tower in ultimate proximity, but Alfred managed to calm her worries. He took his master’s wishes very serious and accompanied her to the salon, along with two discreet bodyguards in tow.

When she returned to Gotham in the evening, Bruce almost did a double take.  
Sporting a short, sporty blond bob with side swept bangs, Pepper looked at least three years younger her age.  
“Wow. That’s amazing. Who are you again, Miss?”

That brought a real smile to Pepper Potts' lips for the first time in weeks.  
She bent over the living room couch to ruffle his as always perfectly coiffed hair in an affectionate gesture.  
“It’s not too short? I wasn’t sure at first.”

Her hands touched the back of her head with tender fingers, marveling at the breezy feeling on her neck.  
Bruce pulled her to sit next to him and ran his hands over the soft, short strands in her nape as well.  
“No, it’s perfect. And as if you were a natural blonde.”

He returned the secretive smile of his butler in the back as Alfred indicated to four large shopping bags.  
  
Pepper gave him a gentle kiss before she wandered off to take care of her newest possessions. Left to stare after her, Bruce's face then darkened with thoughtfulness. Not for the first time since their burgeoning relationship, he wondered how long his two-personae-charade would be able to withstand that astute mind of hers.  
  
If Pepper ever needed to get introduced to the Batman, would she be proud? Disgusted? Would it make her a liability? Or a potential target for anyone who was out for his blood? Bruce Wayne realized the answers to his dilemma would elude him tonight, just like they had been for the past few weeks. The Gotham billionaire got up and stretched his aching back from last night’s encounter with a bank robber.  
  
Toying with the idea of using the steam room in his private spa quarters, he made his way up to their shared master bedroom. He longed for a private fashion show from Pepper first; hoping to persuade her to join him for at least one sauna session afterward.

***

Malibu, April 2010  


Meanwhile, on the west coast, things were up in the air for Tony Stark and the Avengers Initiative.

Nick Fury’s inconsistent flow of communication did not sit well with Tony’s short-tempered attitude, and the team assembly was going slow; much too slow. From the judging looks Fury cast him during their weekly briefings, Tony figured the black man had been informed on his PA-less status by Natasha Romanov. Stark, however, had reached a point where he simply found he did not care.  
  
He figured as long as he showed up sober and ready to work with them, it was none of their damn business.

When he was forced to make the transition from lonely hero to team player with a bunch of dysfunctional individuals like Steve Rogers, the demigod Thor, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov and Bruce Banner, Tony’s mind at least got temporarily taken off the issue that was Pepper Potts. He welcomed their distraction, despite being annoyed out of his mind by most of them.

Even though the Helicarrier provided enough space for them to get out of their respective ways, Tony headed back to his mansion whenever he could; team-building measures be screwed. With each new day that came and went, the dull feeling inside his heart became bigger and bigger; up to the point where not even drinking himself into oblivion helped anymore.

The night before his birthday, around the fourth glass of Scotch, Tony led a rather slurred conversation with Jarvis. It revolved around only one topic, just like it had become routine between the two of them in the past couple of days. “…doesn’t matter, J - I told her to go. She won’ come back, she’s too proud. Damnit - an’ it wasn’t _me_ who was wrong, _she_ was!”

“Well, Sir, maybe it would be wise to not measure in your personal level of pride?” Tony stopped pouring his fifth shot and placed the bottle aside. His fingernails scraped at the corners of the expensive label as he stared along with dull eyes and mulled over the words from his AI for a while. “There are a thousand things in which I could fuck it up even further - tryin’ to get her t’come back, ya know?”

“About 1.065 possible worst-case scenarios to be exact, Sir. None of those would be worse than not trying at all.”

Jarvis' voice held a wise, almost fatherly undertone to it, even though Tony was sure he imagined things in his drunken state of mind.  
  
He left the bottle and the glass on the workbench and stumbled upstairs, to try and get some decent sleep in his bed instead of the workshop couch for once. Tony Stark never told a living soul how fervently he had wished for a sign from her during that night, hoping she would cave in and call him; telling him that she had not forgotten, did still care.

Sadly, Pepper Potts proved him to be wrong.

His 40th  birthday turned out to be one of the worst birthdays in Tony’s history, apart from the one right after his parents’ death. He chose to spend it all alone with the bots and Jarvis in his workshop and warded off any other calls or visits from people who wanted to congratulate or party with him. No, Tony did not give a damn about every single one of them.  
  
April 04th  passed by without a word from the only person in the world he had wanted to hear from. When midnight rolled around and he was too drunk to even stand or walk upright, Tony Stark decided to command all of his iron courage and put things straight; once he was back to sobriety.

Whenever that would be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know (MCU?) canon Tony Stark's supposed to celebrate his b-day on May 29th, but since him and RDJ are basically interlinked for eternity, I took April 4th. Also because it fit the timeline better here, too.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm at risk of getting a lot of flack for this one, but here we go..

Gotham City, April 2010

  
On a rare bright morning at the end of April, Gotham City for once displayed true springtime weather.

The big bold logo outside of Wayne Tower gleamed off into the distance, as pleasant sunlight fell through its panorama glass windows and created idle prisms upon the large mahogany desk of Bruce Wayne. The billionaire sat over a list of approvals and merger agreements, when his secretary called from the hallway. Disdained at the interruption, he pressed the intercom button and all but sighed at her profusely apologetic voice.

“Mister Wayne? I am very sorry, but there is a gentleman here wishing to speak with you. He does not have an appointment, though.”  
At the way she stressed the “not”, a male voice piped up in the background.  
After some hushed and muffled conversation, the secretary was back on the line, flustered. 

“He says his name is Tony Stark.”  
Bruce raised an eyebrow in surprise and put his pen aside. A small smirk began to play around the corners of his mouth.  
“That is no problem, Dorothy. I’ll be with him in a minute. Send him in.”

The Gothamite buttoned up his tailor-made, pinstriped Armani suit before he slipped the business contracts from his desk into a drawer, leaned back in his seat and waited. After less than a minute, the man in question entered the spacious office with decent swagger in his stride. Tony Stark left it to the receptionist to close the door, and the elder woman gave him a final, indignant look which he answered with a big, toothy grin.

Bruce thought back to their unpleasant encounter at the amfAR gala and remained sitting. He put his elbows on both armrests, stapled his fingers and watched in well-concealed amusement how his uninvited guest made his way up to the desk. Wayne's office was huge and gave him the opportunity to thoroughly size up any guests from afar.

Stark was shorter than he remembered him to be, Bruce noticed not without malicious glee, but held himself in a way that made him appear at least two inches taller. He wore an expensive dark blue three-piece-suit with a white shirt, an orange-red-white patterned tie with an equally eccentric pocket square, and a pair of striking designer high-top sneakers in electric blue.

Bruce Wayne had to give it to the Californian billionaire; he definitely loved to dress up and make a show out of everything. Stark seemed to be most content with his display of a celebrity superstar rather than with that of the actual CEO he was. Coming to a halt in front of the desk, Tony shoved one hand in his pocket and scratched his neatly trimmed goatee with the other before he pointed his thumb towards the door.

“Ugh, who needs bodyguards when you have a personal dragon sitting outside, eh?”  
Bruce looked at him, unfazed, and Tony pulled a face; refraining to roll his eyes the very last second.  
“Yeah well, never mind. Nice office by the way. Bit boring though.”

Stark sauntered around the large area and inspected what little paintings and expensive modern art decoration there was. He took most items into his hand, to twist them around and place them back haphazardly. When he came to a stop at the large window front, he started to flex up and down on his tiptoes and looked out into the blue morning. Bruce felt a muscle twitch underneath his left eye and cupped the armrests of his chair.

“Well Mister Stark, you certainly didn’t come all the way from L.A. just to waltz into my office and have a look at the scenery, now did you?”

With his hands clasped behind his back, Tony swung around and looked at Wayne, enjoying the hint of annoyance that lurked beneath the other man’s stoical countenance. In an instant, Stark then became all serious and nodded. With another look at the skyline of Gotham City, his casual voice filled the air.

“Correct. I think we both know the reason for my visit, so let’s cut right to the chase here: You have taken something from me that I want back.”

Wayne gave a short, emotionless laugh and dipped his chair back.  
“Oh? From what I’ve learned, you deliberately threw away what you now come begging for."  
The inventor clenched his jaw but continued to stare out of the window.

Pleased with himself, Bruce crossed his arms in front of his broad chest and smirked at the profile of his contender.   
"And frankly, as matters stand, I’m not negotiating emotional values here. She’s been through too much since then.”  
In three long strides, Stark had crossed the distance back to where Bruce sat.

He slammed both hands on the wooden desktop and leaned in to invade the other man's personal space.  
"What did you do to her? Where is she?"  
His voice had lost the annoying chit-chatting undertone and sounded dangerous as he pressed the question through gritted teeth.

Bruce Wayne, however, was not the least bit impressed.  
"She's safe and sound, Stark – more so than you’ve ever managed to keep her, despite that multitude of fancy colored Tin Man suits."  
That seemed to strike a nerve with the shorter man as his eyes grew hard and he looked downright combative.

Tony pulled himself up to his full height and squinted down to where Bruce sat, eyes full of venom burning into Wayne’s skull. The Gothamite's unperturbed attitude to the unspoken threat seemed to infuriate him even more. "How about I come back here in one of my…" He did some air quotes with his index fingers. "… _fancy suits_ and straighten your ass out, emo boy, huh? Then we'll see who's got the last laugh."

Bruce let his arms sink and rose from his chair with slow movements. Suave exterior aside, it was one thing to cold-shoulder the Californian loudmouth, but a certain, dark part within the Gothamite’s usual composed mind and soul was not willed to reign himself in for much longer. Tony Stark was back to leaning over the table and Bruce Wayne mimicked his stance; the atmosphere between them heavy and aggressive.

Cold, hazel eyes warred with dark, blazing ones.  
"Yes, why don’t you, Stark? I’d sure love to watch you try."  
Whilst the two men stood, locked in a fierce stare-down opposite the mahogany desk, the side door of the office opened in a swift motion.

“Bruce? Alfred told me he just spoke with the site manager. If you still want to do the final acceptance of the Manor’s west wing today, we need to get going at the latest in half an…”

Pepper Potts entered the office in long energetic strides, wearing a slim-fitting anthracite business suit with flared pants and a semi-sheer, teal-colored chiffon blouse with ruffles. From where she glanced at a multi page report in one hand, she was busy trying to re-clip her earring with the other. A pair of car keys dangled between the report and her delicately manicured fingers.

When she eventually looked up, Pepper stopped dead in her tracks and gaped at the scenery in front of her, horrified.

Tony’s heart hammered in his chest as he stared at his former personal assistant for the very first time since their rupture. His fingers clenched around the edge of Bruce’s desk as he took in her short blonde hairdo and her even more slender physique; as if she was a complete stranger. He forced himself to breathe when his vision briefly started to swim before his eyes.

For the longest time ever since he could recall, Tony Stark was rendered completely speechless.

Pepper also did the first thing that came to her mind - she averted his gaze. Instead she stared down, flustered and overwhelmed. Bruce Wayne tried his best not to bask in the glory of the recent turn the situation had taken, but did not want to miss out on the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity either. He abandoned his combat-ready stance, straightened his shoulders and spread his arms in a welcoming gesture.

“Well, what a coincidence. Mister Stark, why don’t we make use of this moment? Feel free to ask my _fiancée_ about her opinion on going back to Malibu with you, if you please.”

Even as he spoke, Bruce walked over to where Pepper stood, frozen to the spot. She flinched, once she got aware of his close proximity, and Bruce took the car keys from her trembling fingers with a gentle motion. At the same time, he raised her left hand up to his lips and planted a soft kiss on her knuckles; right below the huge, sparkling diamond on her ring finger.

Afterwards, the Gothamite sat back in his executive leather chair and, like a casual bystander, observed the scenery with keen interest. Tony Stark had witnessed the whole display with unseeing, unfocused eyes. He swallowed hard several times, but made no move. It was Pepper who broke the spell of the moment as she walked over to where Bruce sat, slipped the reports onto his desk and placed a hand on his shoulder.

After a long moment, the Californian playboy managed to free himself from his state of trance and blinked back to reality.  
With a finalized slap to the desk, he stood up straight and exhaled once; gloom written all over his expressive face.  
“Unnecessary. Hate to say it, but I know when to admit defeat. Congrats Wayne, looks like you won.”

Tony then swung around without casting the woman between them another glance and left the office in fast, long strides; head held up high. When the door fell shut with a soft click seconds later, the spell of the moment was broken and Pepper started to shake from head to toe. Bruce stood up to pull her shivering form into a tender embrace.

***

Downstairs, Tony dragged himself over to where Happy stood waiting for him inside the Rolls Royce and slipped into the back seat, eerily quiet. For a moment he felt as if he would throw up right there on the posh leather seat. Concerned, his chauffeur turned around and faced him. Stark looked pale and shaken as if he had just seen a ghost.

“No luck?”  
Tony pulled at his too tight collar and loosened up his tie in the process.  
He bent forward, hung his head low, and rubbed his face within his palms.

“I’m all outta luck, Hap. All outta fuckin’ luck.”  
With a big frown, Happy Hogan slung one arm over the driver’s seat, uneasy at Tony's display of desperation.  
“So she ain’t here? We can try another lead then, maybe Jarvis could…”

A burst of mirthless laughter was his answer as Tony shook his head and leaned back into the seat.  
Annoyed he yanked the aslant tie off his neck with one swift movement before he threw it aside.  
“The Pepper we knew is gone Hap, no bazillion Jarvis versions in the world could bring her back.”  
  
Incredulous, Happy waved about with his meaty right hand and regarded his boss with a skeptical look.  
“Stop speaking in riddles, man… what happened up there? Why would you say that?”  
Tony’s focus switched from his chauffeur to the windshield. He put his elbow upon the armrest and clenched a tight fist in front of his face.

Without any word he nodded straight ahead, urging his longtime friend to follow his line of view. Happy swung around and also stared at the scene unfolding in front. Bruce Wayne and a woman who vaguely looked like Pepper Potts, only short-haired and blond, were just leaving Wayne Tower in lockstep. Both wore expensive sunglasses and sharp looking power business suits.

They headed for a gray Lamborghini roadster which had been driven up by a valet boy; their hands entwined in an intimate gesture.

Happy and Tony watched how the Gotham billionaire opened the scissor doors of the eccentric sports car for his female companion, before he stepped around and got into the driver’s seat. With a powerful roar, the Italian engine ignited and Wayne effortlessly sped out into the moving traffic of Gotham City to disappear within it soon after. Dumbfounded, Happy turned back to his gravely looking boss.

“This gotta be some kind of sick joke, man. This didn’t just happen – this... ain't Pepper!”

“Better get used to the fact, Hap. She… belongs to this part of the world now.”

Tony waved any further attempts at conversation off and motioned for Happy to get going as well. He closed his eyes and slipped into a semi-conscious state of mind, until they reached the airfield. Wanting to be alone, Tony retreated to the private chamber of his Cessna way before take-off. He did not come out until the jet touched back down in New York.

 


	25. Chapter 25

New York, May 2010  


When the incidents on Project Pegasus started to come thick and fast a couple of weeks later, Tony found he had no time to mull over his personal tragedies any longer. As the Asgardian Loki wreaked havoc at the remote research facility supervised by S.H.I.E.L.D.; stole the Tesseract and sent Iron Man plus half of the so-called Avengers out to capture him in Germany, the billionaire inwardly was glad for the distraction it provided.  
  
The mission turned out to be a catalyst for releasing the aggressions he did not know he had possessed.

Things went awry aboard the Helicarrier, however, resulting in the death of Agent Coulson, the escape of Loki and the opening of a gigantic wormhole on top of Stark Tower. When it launched the invasion of the hostile, extraterrestrial Chitauri race, even Tony Stark started to understand it had become a battle of life and death. As the Avengers rallied in the defense of New York City against a seemingly overpowering invasion, the whole world was on edge.

In Gotham City, Pepper sat in front of the huge wide screen TV of Bruce’s penthouse apartment, clutched a pillow to her chest and watched a live stream from nearly destroyed Manhattan. She winced whenever she saw Iron Man fly risky maneuvers and miss endless rows of houses only by inches, trying to fight and shake off the never-ending waves of Chitauri fleet soldiers. Her silent prayers were with him all the time.  
  
After a while, the coverage got interrupted by a news anchor and she frowned as the live footage got shrunken to a small window in the corner of the screen. “We just received information that the government decided on an attempt to end the alien invasion by launching a nuclear missile at Manhattan! If this will finally change the course of this devastating attack is not clear at this point. We will keep you updated here, live, on WGCK.”

The screen switched back to its original size, and the commentators carried on informing their viewers off-screen about the recent occurrences. Pepper felt an all too familiar anxiety creep back into her mind as she prayed for the city of New York and its population. All of a sudden, there seemed to be a turnabout on the current events, and Pepper watched in horror as the TV cameras from the sky zoomed in on Iron Man.

How the reporters had managed to get helicopters into the battle zone, Pepper did not even want to dwell on.

Tony had intercepted the missile from its destined course, heaved it on his back and took it up high into the sky. His intentions seemed all too clear at that moment, and Pepper’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces. She scrambled off the couch, not listening to the awestruck commentators in the back who were overturning themselves at the unforeseen changes in Manhattan.

“No! God, Tony, please – no!”

She twisted her ankle as she made a move for her Blackberry and, with trembling fingers, dialed a number she had not used in months, but would know by heart as long as she lived. While waiting for her call to get picked up, Pepper tried to breathe evenly as she followed the events on screen.

“Please pick up, please pick up, please…”

***

Inside the suit, Tony felt the heat rising up through the endoskeleton of Mark VII.

Jarvis had started to shut down non-vital functions like air-conditioning, to provide Tony with enough power to reach his designated goal. His shoulder muscles were verging on going numb from the awkward position he had hoisted the nuke up his back. While he mentally kicked himself for his foolhardy idea, Tony knew he was at the point of no return.  
  
He hoped to be able stop those bastards; if not, he at least prayed to not be in one piece to witness his failed attempt.  
“Incoming call with an unknown number, Sir.”  
Jarvis’ calm voice interrupted his morbid train of thoughts.  
  
“Someone’s got a very shitty timing there.”  
With a grunt, Tony adjusted his hold on the heavy missile once more.  
Once more, he dodged a stray Chitauri skid which tried to collide with him and distract his flight path.  
  
“Put it through.”  
There was electrostatic rustle at first; so much that Tony figured the call had already been lost before he could answer.  
Then, however, there was a voice. An all too familiar voice.  
  
“TONY!? Tony, can you hear me? Please say something if you do!”

The billionaire swallowed hard against his dry throat and briefly closed his eyes. A shiver ran down his spine in the suit. Just when he thought he would never have to go through another day of missing her again, there she was. Tony Stark thought of a thousand things to say to her, but his notorious brain decided to draw a blank, and left him to croak out the first thing that came to his mind.

“Erm… something?”  
The voice on the other end of the line erupted in a huge sobbing fit. He winced at himself and his damn superfluous wisecracks.  
“Hey, hey, hey! Sorry! Pepper! Hey. I’m here. I can hear you.”

The loud sniff she gave into the speaker caused a small, sad smile to appear on his lips.  
“God, I miss you so much.”  
His all but whispered words went unheard inside his HUD, over another batch of static.

Her voice on the other hand drowned out his mumblings and sounded panicked and desperate like never before.  
“Tony! You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into! Let go of the damn thing as soon as it’s not too late and get out of there, I beg you!”  
His attention got diverted to the flickering warnings in the corner of his HUD for a second, telling him about Mark VII's decreasing power levels.

Tony licked his dry lips to be able to answer. ”No can do, Pep. Gotta finish this here; once and for all. There’s no other way - heck, I don’t even know if this works. It’s my first time with a nuke in space… eh, that kinda came out weird.” His lame attempts at lightening the mood caused her crying to intensify, and he cursed himself. Those were likely the last moments he had with her.  
  
“Okay, okay - listen. I’m gonna cut the crap now. Pepper?”

He imagined how she pressed the phone closer to her ear, and pictured her freckled face before his inner eye. Tony Stark then took a deep breath and spoke in utter seriousness. “I want you to know I’m sorry for what happened. I never should’ve said the things I’ve said to you. I never meant to hurt you – I… dammit, you were all I have, remember?” Her crying had died down to steady, monotone weeping.  
  
He forced himself to go on before he could not speak further; own eyes already brimming behind the faceplate.  
Angry Tony blinked the tears away. He needed to stay strong.  
No way out.

“When this is over and you’re safe, please don’t think of me as the bastard you’ve come to hate. I want you to be happy… really, I do… and I’m glad…” He stopped and grunted, feeling how the lack of oxygen was dulling his senses and made it hard for him to concentrate on proper speech. “… I’m glad you have someone by your side who will… who will do just that.”

In between Pepper's sobbing, he caught her repeating his name over and over again and tried to memorize the sound; thankful to be allowed to hear her voice one last time. “Tony... I’m so sorry... so very sorry... I never wanted any of this… please forgive me!” He gave a tired smile into the darkness of the exosphere and watched as the bright blue mother ship of the Chitauri came in visual range.

All of a sudden, a deathly calmness surrounded him.  
“Don’t worry Pep, okay? Hey, I never said it, but I… I want you to know I’ve always…”  
Then there was only static; the connection cut beyond repair.

“TONYYYYY!”

Pepper broke down on the floor in front of the couch, phone slipping from her hand. Dazed she watched Iron Man disappear within the wormhole. Even the commentators were out of words for a few seconds, and the whole world seemed to hold its breath until the missile detonated in a white, fiery ball of atomic energy far above their heads.

It was over.  
Tony Stark had done the unfathomable - he had sacrificed his life for the greater good of mankind.  
And Pepper Potts felt as if a very large part of her had died with him that moment.

People everywhere began to cheer, once the Chitauri mother ship got destroyed and the hostile forces were left to crumble to the ground on earth.

Pepper had not noticed Bruce entering the living room, his face a mixture between grim satisfaction and relief. He found her on the floor in front of the TV, her eyes red and her face streaked with tears. Bruce walked around the couch, sat down behind her and offered his silent support by placing his hands on her shoulders. She did not even turn around at his touch and continued to weep in between taking shuddering breaths.  
  
“He’s gone Bruce. He took the missile and...”  
Her voice started to hitch with emotion and Pepper could not finish the sentence. She stared down on the carpet.  
“No he’s not. Look.”

Bruce squeezed her shoulders and urged her to look back at the screen. Pepper watched in disbelief as a tiny, metallic spot which was indeed Iron Man fell back down to earth. The wormhole closed right behind him only seconds later. She grabbed Bruce’s left hand with hers, about to give in to utter relief when she noticed something was wrong.

“Why… why doesn’t he slow down? He’s too fast!”

They watched in unison as Iron Man descended head forward towards the ground without braking his fall. The live commentators had picked up on the critical situation and were commenting on what was going on with the superhero. Blood rushed in her ears as Pepper squeezed Bruce’s hand. “He’s not gonna make it from this distance if he crashes – even the suit can’t protect him!”  
  
Pepper sounded near tears again. Bruce frowned, not wanting her to witness what was about to happen, but not able to prevent it either. “I’m sure he’ll come around any second.” With regards to the selfless act of saving the world and ultimately all of them, Bruce Wayne found his respect in the other man partly restored. He still did not like him, but was grateful for the sacrifice Stark had made.

When Tony’s motionless body was in close proximity of hitting the skyscrapers, Pepper slung both hands in front of her face, unable to watch.  
Seconds before he could hit the building, the Hulk appeared with a mighty jump and grabbed the prone figure in a tight grip.  
“He’s got him!”

At Bruce’s statement, Pepper stared back at the screen and sobbed out in relief. She turned around and let herself be engulfed in a hug as the tension ebbed off in Bruce’s arms. The Gotham billionaire held her during her outburst with a stoic expression. As he glanced down at the woman in his arms, he knew that once Stark was back safe and sound, a confrontation between them was unavoidable.

In a silent, rather philanthropic decision, Bruce Wayne figured he owed it to the woman who had captured his heart to help her reconcile with the man who had been a part of her life for a very long time. He stopped stroking her back and searched his pockets for a handkerchief. “I assume you want to make sure that he’s alright.” Pepper blew her nose and stared at the screen.  
  
The cameras were now too far away to capture the events on the ground, where the Hulk had taken his unconscious cargo to. She cast large eyes back to him, unspoken questions hovering within. Her billionaire ran his long fingers through her short, blond hair and gave a lopsided shrug. “Take the Slipstream, make it to New York in an hour?” She took a deep breath and tried to calm her frazzled nerves.  
  
“How? We wouldn’t get landing permission; least of all proper transportation towards Manhattan. Everything’s blocked or destroyed.”  
His countenance never wavered.  
“Leave that to me.”  
  
Once more, Pepper got reminded of the way Bruce Wayne worked – elaborate, professional, and effortlessly competent.  



	26. Chapter 26

New York, May 2010  
  


An hour later, they touched down in on a private airfield in the outer rims of Harlem.   
  
Pepper stepped out of the jet and looked around. “No car in sight. See? Figured. We still should try to catch a ride somewhere.” Bruce put his arm around her waist, stopped her from pulling out her mobile and turned her around to the rear end of the airplane. The hatch opened to reveal a shiny red-gray motorbike secured within a tight harness. Surprised, she let her phone sink back into the handbag.   
  
Wayne put up a roguish smile. “Gets us faster to Manhattan then a car.” Soon they had it freed from its confines, and Pepper watched Bruce shrug into a leather jacket before he held out a helmet for her. “Have you ever been on a bike?” With a dismissive look she snatched the helmet, walked past him and straddled the machine in one swift, elegant motion. Bruce’s eyebrows rose in appreciation.   
  
“Lady, you never cease to amaze me. Is there anything you cannot do?” She pushed her visor down with a resolute snap. “Lots. I try to avoid you to witness though.” Once Pepper had slung her arms tight around his waist, Bruce ignited the machine and headed towards downtown New York City. If the occasion was different, the redhead would have enjoyed their fast-paced trip; loving the sound and the feel of the MV Agusta.   
  
Bruce handled the machine with experienced accuracy, wound through the suburbs, and onto the FDR drive which was thankfully not blocked out. After not even twenty minutes, they were in Midtown, going slow through heaps of rubble, debris and ashes everywhere. Pepper swallowed as the Stark Tower loomed up in the distance; at least still standing in nearly all of its 93-stocky glory.   
  
On closer examination however, it seemed to have suffered some fatal blows to its upper floors. All around them lay remains of the Chitauri fleet; either body parts or skids. The redhead tried not to look too closely and focused on getting to the tower. With a final roar and drift to the right, Bruce stopped across the building. Policemen and members of the National Guards swarmed around and secured the area with yellow tape.   
  
The two of them took off their helmets and regarded the scenery for a few moments, unsure how to proceed. Pepper then climbed off the bike and pushed her helmet into Bruce’s hands.“I’m going in; maybe someone from security staff is around and recognizes me. I've got to try Bruce, but I have to do it alone” At his silent stare, she touched his shoulder.  
  
He nodded and watched her trudge through the wreckage towards the main entrance, until she disappeared inside.

Down in the foyer, chaos seemed even bigger than outside. Pepper made use of the confusion, squeezed past unfamiliar faces and managed to get hold of a still functioning elevator. She pressed the button for the private area, hoping not to stand in front of locked doors. With a dinging sound, the doors opened on what had been the Party Deck soon after, and a heavy draft blew dust in her eyes.

Shielding them, Pepper stepped forward and gasped in disbelief at the gaping hole inside Tony’s leisure quarters where once had been solid concrete walls. With debris and shattered glass crunching underneath the soles of her boots, she stepped forward with caution; looking left and right whilst trying not to stumble. In the distance, police sirens could be heard screaming through all of Manhattan.

A lone figure stood at the rim of the torn down exterior wall and stared into the sundown. The light fell onto the red-golden metal and created prism patterns on the ground. His faceplate looked like it had been ripped off, and the suit was completely marred, but he was alive. Trembling, the young woman wrung her hands and stared at the familiar outline of Mark VII, until she found the strength to speak up.  
  
“Tony…”  
Pepper’s voice was barely a whisper and far too quiet for him to hear it from where he stood.  
Still, something made him turn around just then, and there were no more words.

He met her halfway; trying not to stumble backwards when she all but flung herself at him. As she clung tight to the remains of what used to be his latest armor, Pepper cried into his neck. Weak she slammed her fists onto his mangled chest plate while she muttered incoherent things that sounded either like his name or cursing, Tony was not sure. He held her without a word, refraining from crushing her in a bone-breaking hug.

Instead, he placed his chin on her head and closed his eyes. They stood there for what seemed like an eternity, shaking and sobbing, until he gently pushed her a few inches away to get a closer look at the woman he thought he would never see again. In return, Pepper's eyes darted all over his face, scanned him for the most obvious injuries and wiped down her cheeks with her sleeve.

“I thought I lost you.”  
Tony gave a resolute sniff and coughed twice. His gauntleted fingers tried to reach an itch at the junction of his neck.  
“Yeah, I kinda know that feeling.”

He had not meant for it to come out as blunt as it did, but Pepper still flinched. To counter his statement, Tony gently pushed a strand of hair from her face and smiled. The suit’s damaged mechanism whirred at his movements. Once his initial surprise had ebbed off, Tony’s brain sprung into action. “But... how on earth did you get here? Everything’s a mess! I’m dreading the invoice Bloomberg's gonna send me.”

He led her away from the gaping abyss, over to a more secured spot at a cluttered seating arrangement. With a swift move of his arm, Tony grabbed an expensive upturned designer sofa and flipped it back onto its feet for Pepper to sit on. She took a seat and looked down at her hands. By intuition, her fingers ran across her engagement ring, and she covered it with her right hand.   
  
Tony immediately understood and sat down next to her on the couch. The furniture gave a loud protest against the heavy Iron Man armor. “Mister Square let you come down here? Why would he do that? Kinda risky if you ask me.” He clamped his mouth shut. Not even ten minutes after reuniting, he was not about to start another argument.   
  
“Bruce… is waiting downstairs. He offered to come over and make sure you’re okay, after what just happened.”   
Pepper glanced sideways at her long-time friend and former boss, and saw him press his lips together.  
All the while, Tony inspected the broken repulsor on his left hand with seemingly great interest.  
  
“He did that, huh? Well, I think I did okay… again.”

Tony then pointedly looked at her, waiting to see if she would catch his reference from when they stood on that rooftop at the Expo, in what seemed like ages ago. When she gave no signs of recognition, he sighed with resignation, put on his best smile and tried to cover the disappointment that bubbled close beneath the surface. At least she was there and talking to him. That was all that mattered.

“…and the others did as well. Mind you, they’re a bunch of weirdos, but still. You gotta meet them sometime.”  
They smiled sadly at each other into the awkward silence that erupted.  
Tony nodded to himself, felt stupid for his suggestion and for the subliminal hopes that came with it.

“Oh well, but maybe not whilst the green guy’s still around. He’s saved my life but that doesn’t mean he’s easy to hang with.”

Pepper took a deep breath, about to tell him a thousand things which would stop him from rambling on. As soon as her mouth opened, however, she was left without words. The aftermath of hurt, lies and betrayal still lingered on, but neither of them had an idea how to solve the problem at hand. Then Tony cleared his throat, placed his hands on his knees and pushed himself up. It caused Mark VII to give another, quite audible protest.

“Yeah, uh, I think it’s best if we’ll get you back now. Don’t want your waiting committee to get mad at me.” He extended a hand towards her and wiggled his gauntleted fingers. “Sides, this deck's soon gonna be crowded with S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and dead tired Avengers. Not a pretty sight right now. Let me give you a lift.” Pepper rose from the sofa, but without taking his hand.   
  
Part of her felt kicked out without knowing why it bothered her. After all, her fiance was waiting and she had chosen not to belong there, with Tony, anymore. “I can take the elevator - you look like you keel over as soon as you try to lift a finger. Get some rest, I’ll see myself out.” He shook his head in determination as he closed the distance to where she stood.   
  
In one swift motion, Tony had swept her off her feet, despite her brief yelp of indignation. The inventor waited patiently until his red-haired charge had at least securely wrapped her arm around his neck before he clanked through the ruins and over to the abyss. “Even if it’s the last thing I’m doing for today, I’ll make sure to get you downstairs safe and sound. Humor me Potts, it’s been a while.”

Sad brown eyes lingered on blue, and Pepper swallowed, overwhelmed by the emotions lurking behind his facade. Once she had nodded, Tony ignited his jet pack boots and descended downwards with care. No words were spoken between them as the wind rushed in their ears. Pepper pointed him towards the spot where Bruce was leaning against his motorbike and scanned his surroundings with a mistrusting expression.

When the sounds of Iron Man’s repulsors reached his ears, the Gotham billionaire looked upwards and a brief frown flickered across his features. Tony touched down and allowed Pepper to extract herself from his grip. She brushed some dust off her jacket where it had rubbed against his grimy suit.

“Thanks for the lift, Iron Man.”  
He indicated a mock-bow and looked down to where her hand still rested on his wrist plate.  
“Anytime, Miss Potts.”

For a split second, Tony wanted to blurt out 'Let's stay in touch -everything's gonna be like before- come back!'. Instead, he just clamped his mouth shut and put up a noncommittal smile. Pepper blinked several times before she took her hand away from where it lingered on his gauntlet and looked him in the eye. She knew their goodbye was inevitable, but at that very moment, she needed to know it at least was not permanent.

“Take care of yourself. I don’t want you to go chase around aliens in space sometime soon, you hear?”

Tony tried to keep his cool demeanor as he watched his former assistant walk up to where Wayne stood and held out a helmet for her. The couple shared a brief look before Pepper got up on the bike. Bruce Wayne also threw his left leg over the machine, but hesitated to put on his own helmet. He looked over to where Tony stood across the cracked asphalt of the street with an indefinable expression on his face.

As the Californian billionaire was about to turn around, he called after him.

“Hey, Stark….”  
Tony stopped on the crunching debris and looked over his shoulder.  
“Yeah?”

The Gothamite pointed towards Stark Tower with his chin, a smirk playing on his lips.  
“Nice building. Bit in need of renovations, though.”  
Tony followed his direction with his eyes, as did Pepper.

Next to the multitude of gaping holes in the outer shell, the big bold STARK lettering had also been bombed off during the Chitauri attack, leaving only the A to sadly dangle in its spot. Catching Wayne’s drift was not too difficult, so Tony responded with a crooked smile and an unimpressed shrug. The Gotham guy might have Pepper, but Tony would be damned if he let him have the final say as well.  
  
“Never did like those penthouse wallpapers. My interior designer’s gonna have a field day.”  
  
He fired up the repulsor jet packs of his boots and rose into the air. Bruce watched Stark’s technology with a hint of admiration. Despite the fact that the suit was heavily banged up, it still displayed impressive craftsmanship. If the circumstances were different, the Gotham billionaire was sure that Wayne Enterprises and Stark Industries would be able to rule the world as joined forces against crime, war and injustice.

Wayne’s face then lost its sarcastic touch and became serious.  
“Congratulations. You did a good job up there.”  
Pepper watched various emotions flitter across Tony’s countenance at Bruce’s honest admittance.

When his initial surprise had passed, Stark nodded once with heavily guarded gratitude.  
His eyes then flickered over to the woman on the pillion of the motorbike.  
“Be careful on your way back. You’ve got precious cargo.”

Now it was Bruce’s turn to nod. Effortless, he slipped on his helmet and made sure his fiancee had as well. Pepper cast one last glance over at Tony before she closed the visor and slipped her arms around Bruce’s waist. The MV Agusta came to life with a powerful snarl as Bruce Wayne applied throttle. He kept squeezing the clutch lever that put the machine in neutral and turned around, waiting for permission to take off.

Pepper craned her neck and saw Tony hovering in mid air. He threw two fingers up to tip his temple in a casual salute, to which the young woman nodded one last time, before she lightly squeezed Bruce’s sides. With a flick of his fingers, Bruce disengaged the clutch, shifted with his left foot and revved the engine. With a pensive look, Tony Stark watched them speed off into the distance soon after.  
  
Then he turned and blazed a sharp trail up into the sky.

 

**End of part I**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... and here we are. I can almost see the end credits starting to roll. No, really.
> 
> Allow me to get sappy real quick: 
> 
> All of your reactions to this fic literally blew me away. To think I was actually never gonna muster up enough courage to upload and post this seems so far fetched at this point - gotta thank my significant other and my mom for urging me on to do it. To each one who read, gave kudos and/or even commented - I cannot thank you enough! You are amazing, and I'm glad and honored to be a part of this community. 
> 
> Kay, I'm done.  
> For now.  
> Guess I'll see you... in part II?


End file.
